The First Week
by arctichamster
Summary: In which a shooting at a paintball tournament marks the beginning of House and Stacy's 5 year relationship. *NOTE: This is a slight retooling of my first piece of fan fiction, because I am obviously unable to leave well enough alone. Part One of The Five Year Cycle. [There really are more coming!]
1. Chapter 1

M: Language, sexual situations.

G House/S Collins/J Wilson

Summary: In which a shooting at a paintball tournament marks the beginning of House and Stacy's 5 year relationship.

Part One of The Five Year Trilogy (Part Two in progress)

*********A retooling/cleanup of the very first fan fiction piece I ever wrote. Having written several others since then, and being perhaps too fond of picking my own nits over the minutiae, I can't just leave well enough alone.**

**A/N1: I realize this isn't the most popular of pairings, but just how House and Stacy went from a disastrous first date to her moving in with him a week later remains, to me, one of the great mysteries of life. I hope this goes a short way towards answering the question. It's also my first attempt at writing fan fiction, aside from some scribbled ideas on Post-It Notes 10-15 years ago that never went anywhere, so consider yourselves duly warned.**

**A/N2: Canonical References:  
****Honeymoon S1E22 (Lawrence Kaplow, John Mankiewicz)  
****Son of a Coma Guy (Doris Egan)**

**A/N3: I am a firm believer in canon, but since we have no reference to Stacy's maiden name or background I had to take liberties. I will always be grateful to Doris Egan for writing Son of a Coma Guy. The **_**buraku **_**story belongs to her. Hearing it is one thing, but reading the words made me realize that House is really a **_**buraku **_**of his own making. The episode also provides the backstory for the beginning of this one.**

**A/N4: I fudged a bit on the electronics. The iPod did not exist in 1994, but I just couldn't see our characters having to deal with unwieldy portable CD players. And as far as medicine is concerned, while it has always been something of a hobby of mine, and I was a Nationally Registered EMT for 5 years more than half a lifetime ago, everything you read here comes from research or my own experience with some liberties taken here and there. I've tried to keep things as close to accurate as I can without making it too complicated. **

**A/N5: I owe a deep debt of gratitude to HouseOCDfan and Stathies for the reading and input along the way and to BlossomYoung42 for the editing. I swear, a person should not be allowed to have as much fun together online as we've been known to have! Reviews and comments gratefully accepted. All mistakes are my own**

**A/N6: Standard disclaimer. I have no connection whatsoever to these characters other than a deep and abiding fondness and respect for them. My unending thanks to David Shore for creating one of the most unique and memorable television characters of our time and to Hugh Laurie for breathing life into Gregory House, making him so much more nuanced and human than the one-dimensional pain in the ass he could have been. 50 years from now when we have all returned to the cosmos, they will still remember. And they will continue to write fiction about him.**

Spring 1994

Princeton, New Jersey

Sunday

Down on one knee and positioned behind a large maple tree, Dr. Gregory House sighted through the scope of his air rifle and took aim at a short, rather awkward looking guy crouched behind a rock. Just as he was about to pull the trigger, taking out his third opponent of the day, House suddenly found himself sprawled face down in the dirt with a sharp stinging pain in his ass. He cursed emphatically at the unseen cause of the pain as he writhed on the ground. The awkward looking guy looked back at the sound and took off from his hiding place, relieved to have avoided being shot.

Groaning loudly and rubbing the area on his ass where he'd been hit, House gingerly got to his feet. He wondered how he'd been spotted in the first place. He had been so sure his spot behind the tree hid him from all sides. He turned around, looking for the sneaky bastard who'd found him out, and found himself face to face with a strikingly attractive woman. She was slightly taller than average, about his age, with warm caramel-colored eyes and shoulder-length deep brown hair covered by a ball cap. She looked at him with a raised eyebrow at his plight. House found himself momentarily speechless, but quickly found his voice.

"You shot me!"

The woman laughed, a sound House found he liked a lot and wouldn't mind hearing again.

"Who left his ass exposed? By the way, it looks good in pink." She laughed again and raced off, air rifle in hand, in search of her next target. House watched as she left, admiring the view, and decided that this woman was someone he very much wanted to get to know better.

Out of the competition, House wandered over to the picnic table where there were several coolers filled with cold drinks. He grabbed a bottle of beer out of one, popped the cap, and took a long pull of the cold liquid. Several other competitors, all with telltale pink or green splotches of paint on their clothes, wandered the area socializing amongst themselves. Never one for idle conversation, House stood off to the side alone with his beer. He was lost in thought, absently drinking and wondering how the woman who shot him was faring when he heard her voice nearby. Spotting her, he watched her lay into one of her teammates for losing them the tournament to a bunch of _doctors_. She had several bright pink splotches on her clothes, as if someone's air rifle had gotten stuck in the automatic position. House chuckled at the view, noting that she'd been shot by a member of her own team and was likely going to be very uncomfortable and rather bruised once the adrenaline from the game wore off. _I wonder if that's the guy who shot her. That's got to be embarrassing. _

Stacy Collins heard a deep and hearty chuckle as she walked away from the idiot who'd lost the tournament for the lawyers. She turned to see the guy she'd shot in the ass laughing at her. He was tall, with a rather lanky athletic build and short unruly light brown hair that looked like it hadn't been decently cut in...well...ever. He was clean shaven, but still managed to look scruffy. His clothes were as dirty as hers from hiding in the woods. What struck her most though, was how very blue his eyes were. She didn't think she'd ever seen anyone with eyes that blue. She had to admit she liked the sound of his laugh, but the vaguely lecherous look on his face told her that he was probably a jerk like most of the guys she'd met lately. She shot him a glare that made it very clear she wasn't interested before turning to grab her duffle bag and walk away.

House watched as the woman grabbed her gear and headed out of the park. He noticed her sizing him up, guessing that she'd taken him for a jerk the way her face clouded over before turning away. Determined not to let her leave without at least knowing her name, he grabbed his own duffle bag and took off at a jog after her. He caught up with her as she was putting the bag in the trunk of her car.

"Hey."

Stacy turned to face him, surprised that he'd actually followed her. She raised an eyebrow and allowed herself to look him over again. She had to admit she liked what she saw, even if he was a jerk.

"Hey."

House stuck out his hand. "Greg House."

Stacy shook the offered hand. "Stacy Collins." She found that she really liked the way his hand felt in hers.

"First time? I haven't seen you at one of these things before."

"Yeah. This is the first year I've been able to make it. Usually I'm working." Stacy suddenly realized that their hands were still clasped, and reluctantly pulled her hand away. They eyed each other in awkward silence.

"You work here in Princeton?" House couldn't remember when he'd ever had such a difficult time talking to a woman. He wanted to make a good impression, yet couldn't help but wonder how he would manage to fuck this up.

"I'm at Hargrove and Shaw. What about you? Do you have a practice here in town?"

"I'm on staff at Princeton Community." He shrugged. "It's a job. Listen, you want to go somewhere? Get something to eat?" The words came out of his mouth before he realized what he'd said.

Stacy regarded him with a mixture of suspicion and amusement. She was still convinced he was a jerk, but it had also been a long time since she'd been on an actual date rather than just out for drinks with people she worked with. _Why not?_ she thought. _It's just lunch. Jerk._


	2. Chapter 2

They sat across from each other at a diner near the park, looking over their menus and not talking. When the waiter came by, House ordered himself a dry Reuben sandwich with no pickle, fries, and a soda. Stacy ordered a chicken salad and iced tea. The waiter took their menus and left them to continue not talking. House lightly gnawed on the inside of his cheek while looking everywhere but at Stacy. He hated any type of social situations, having to pretend to be nice when he just wanted to be at home. He really didn't need or want anything else. _Why do I bother?_ He wondered. _She's just gonna think I'm an ass. _He had to admit Stacy looked damned good in those paintball-spattered clothes and stole a glance at her, noticing that she was still looking at him.

Stacy continued to look at Greg, wondering how long it was going to take him to say something. After what seemed like days, she'd finally had enough.

"Do you always talk this much?"

"Did you know that the _Colymbosathon Ecplecticos_ has one of the largest penises relative to its size?" House replied.

Stacy stared at him. _This is how the man starts a conversation?! _

"And I need to know this why?"

House shrugged. "Because it's interesting."

The conversation went downhill from there. The more Stacy tried to engage Greg in casual dialogue in an effort to learn more about him, the more House deflected with his usual sarcasm. By the time they left the diner almost 2 hours later, Stacy was beside herself. She found Gregory House to be frustrating, arrogant, obviously brilliant, and brutally sarcastic. She was surprised to find herself attracted to him even as her brain screamed, _He's such an ass!_ \- an effect which left her mentally exhausted from the effort of merely trying to get him to have a conversation with her. _I am _not_ doing this again_, she thought as they walked to their cars. _It's like trying to talk to an 8 year old._

House found himself stealing glances at Stacy as they walked through the parking lot to their respective cars, his hands shoved into his pockets. _Yeah. That went well. She looks pissed_, he thought. Besides finding her to be incredibly attractive, Stacy was highly intelligent, quick with smart comebacks to virtually every sarcastic comment he made, and her laugh did something to him deep inside. As much as he would have preferred to be at home, he had to admit that he very much enjoyed her company and wondered how he might get her to see him again.

Stacy unlocked her car door and turned to House with her hand extended. "It was nice to meet you, Greg." She kept her voice neutral, making it clear that she wanted nothing more to do with him.

House shook her hand, and found that he really liked the way her firm grip fit into his. "Good to meet you, Stacy." They stood there looking at each other, each waiting for the other to break contact. Finally House pulled his hand away, looking at the ground with a mumbled, "I should go." He turned away and walked the two spaces to his own car, leaving Stacy to wonder when she had ever had such an odd and frustrating encounter with anyone outside of the courtroom.

* * *

Later in the day House was in his apartment at the piano, improvising a slow and soulful blues piece while his mind drifted. He couldn't stop thinking about that disastrous lunch with Stacy, continuously second-guessing himself. A persistent knocking sound shook him from his reverie. House crossed the room and opened the door to reveal his best friend, Dr. James Wilson. Wilson had a 6-pack of beer in hand as he entered the apartment and made a beeline for the couch. He dropped onto the cushions and put his feet up on the coffee table, opening a beer and making himself completely at home. House eyed him with a sardonic grin.

"Another fight with Bonnie?"

"She wants us to take a vacation. To Europe. One of those guided tours she read about in a magazine. I tried to explain that working on an Oncology ward doesn't exactly allow for a lot of vacation time, and she told me I'd rather be at work than spending time with her. She's not wrong." Wilson took a swig from his beer and passed a bottle over to House before setting the 6-pack on the coffee table. "Hey," Wilson continued, changing the subject. "Who won the paintball tournament?"

House dropped down on the sofa next to Wilson and opened his beer. He put his feet up on the coffee table next to Wilson's and took a swig before answering.

"We did. The lawyers didn't stand a chance."

"So, the usual then."

"Yeah. Except for the getting shot in the ass part."

"You got shot in the ass?! You never get shot! Do you know who did it?"

"Some chick named Stacy Collins. Maddening woman. A conversation with her is like being interrogated under a microscope."

"You like her." Wilson looked over at House to gauge his reaction. He had known his friend long enough to know that House only talked about women that way when he was interested.

"What's to like? She's a lawyer. She's annoying. Can barely carry on a conversation in a diner. Let herself get shot by someone on her own team. And did I mention she shot me in the ass?"

Wilson chuckled. Yeah, whatever else he might say, House was well and truly taken with this Stacy person.

Miffed, House sat next to Wilson and nursed his beer. He knew that Wilson was not going to leave well enough alone, that he'd keep nagging and asking his stupid questions about a truly enervating woman that House was never going to see again until he was satisfied he knew everything there was to know about her.

As expected, Wilson grilled House about everything from the moment he got shot in the ass to House and Stacy's final handshake at their cars. It was like pulling teeth to get the information, but Wilson was finally satisfied he had a pretty good idea of what happened. Surprisingly, he had an even better idea about Stacy's looks and personality from offhanded comments House made and thought she sounded like someone who could hold her own against the force of nature that was Gregory House.

"So, are you going to see her again?" Wilson asked as innocently as he could manage with a straight face.

House glared at him. He wasn't about to let Wilson know that he had been trying to figure out a way to do just that. "_No._ She made it pretty clear she doesn't want anything more to do with me."

"And you're okay with that?"

"I'm fine." House was anything but fine and Wilson knew it, but he also knew better than to push once that statement had been made. House was going to chew on their conversation and the events of the day until he came up with a way for him to see Stacy again.

They ordered pizza, watched TV and finished the beer while talking about whatever came to mind at the moment. Working at different hospitals in different cities, they groused about what was going on in their respective departments. House complained about being threatened with yet another malpractice lawsuit, even though he had diagnosed and treated the patient properly. Wilson went on again about Bonnie wanting to go on this vacation to Europe and dreaded having to continue that discussion with her once he got home. House talked excitedly about the monster truck rally he'd watched on TV the night before, and Wilson pretended as always to be just as enthusiastic. The evening went on into the wee hours, until Wilson reluctantly tore himself away from the comfort of House's apartment and headed back to his own where he would have to deal with the wrath of Bonnie.


	3. Chapter 3

Monday

It was one of House's rare days off during the week. He woke up late thinking about Stacy, which was completely unlike him because he'd fallen asleep thinking about her as well. It had been years since he'd met anyone who intrigued him like she did. He thought about how good she looked in her paint-spattered clothes and wondered how bruised she'd be. _Those damn things hurt like hell and I only got hit once. _Stacy looked to have been hit 5 or 6 times. House knew she had to have been in pain, but she didn't even seem to notice. _Probably has brothers_, he thought.

He brought his mind back to the way she looked, how great she smelled even though she had been just as sweaty and filthy as he was, the way she smacked back every sarcastic comment he made and especially the way her hand just felt right in his own both times they'd shaken hands. He wondered if it was his imagination that she was as slow at letting go as he'd been.

After several minutes of idle daydreaming about that infuriating woman, House groaned and rolled out of bed. He glanced at the clock on the nightstand and wandered into the bathroom, mentally noting that Stacy would be at work and wondering how she'd react if he happened to show up in the middle of her day. He took care of the usual morning business, opting out of a shave since he didn't need to be presentable for anyone.

* * *

Stacy sat at her desk, poring over legal briefs yet not paying much attention to what she was reading. Her mind was elsewhere, on the incredibly abrasive and annoying Greg House. She wished she knew why he occupied most of her thoughts the night before and again when she woke up. She couldn't remember when - or even if - she'd ever had a more disastrous date with anyone before. And yet… Intense blue eyes crossed her mind, their intelligence tinged with something she couldn't quite place, and her thoughts softened a bit. She remembered a small smile that crossed his lips as they said their goodbyes in the diner parking lot and knew there had to be more to him than her initial impression let her see. Glancing at her watch, Stacy knew that he would be at work and wondered how he'd react if she happened to show up in the middle of his day.


	4. Chapter 4

House laced up his sneakers, put the earbuds to his iPod in, and headed out of the apartment for a run. He spent a couple of minutes with warm up stretches on the front steps, then started out at a slow jog toward the park a few blocks away. He enjoyed these runs, building up to a comfortable pace so that by the time he reached the jogging path next to the lake he was in a groove, the warm sounds of New Orleans blues playing in his ears.

* * *

Stacy finally gave up on any meaningful attempt to make sense of the briefs on her desk. She glanced at her watch again, noting the glacial passage of time and decided to go for a run to clear her brain. There was a park near the office with a small lake surrounded by a jogging path that she thought would make a relaxing venue to try and make sense of things. She grabbed the gym bag from under her desk and went into the bathroom to change.

Peeling off her clothes, she caught a glimpse of several rising bruises on one side of her body that stretched from her shoulder blade to her ribs. _That explains why I was so sore last night_, she thought - immediately followed by, _What kind of idiot puts an automatic setting on a paintball gun, for Christ's sake?!_ Gingerly she changed into comfortable jogging clothes, laced up her sneakers, tucked her iPod into a pocket and headed to her car for the short drive to the park.

* * *

Stacy leaned against her car in the parking lot of the park after finishing some warm up stretches, scrolling through her iPod to find music to suit her distracted mood. She had just been to New Orleans for a conference on constitutional law and had fallen in love with the music. She made a selection and put in the earbuds. As the music began to free her mind, Stacy set out along the jogging path, allowing herself to get lost in the sound. She was just starting to hit her stride when her left foot took an odd turn as she stepped on a rock, sending her crashing to the pavement. She tried to roll in an effort to cushion the blow but found herself tangled in a pair of legs which had apparently tried to avoid her when she fell, and heard a yelp of pain coming from the owner of said legs as he landed on top of her.

House couldn't believe the attractive woman running in front of him had just taken a dive. He'd seen her take a bad step on a rock mid-stride and tried to avoid colliding with her as she fell, but with his long legs he was on her before he could catch himself. He went down hard as his legs tangled with hers and they came to an abrupt stop. Extricating himself while shaking his head to clear it, House looked over at the woman he collided with who was herself sitting up and shaking her own head. In an instant he recognized her, and in the next instant all rational thought fled his brain.

Stacy sat up, the shock of the fall quickly fading as she looked over at the man she'd caused to fall into her. She was about to apologize and ask if he was okay when the words died in her mouth. _Those eyes_, she thought. _Oh shit. It's him._

They stared at each other in shock for what seemed like an eternity and when they finally broke their silence it was in a tumble of words much like their fall. They laughed self-consciously as they helped each other up then stood in the middle of the path, hands resting on each other's forearms, as they looked at each other and pondered the strange set of circumstances that had brought them together again.

House saw that she was bleeding from several abrasions and shallow cuts on her hands and knees and his medical instincts took over. He directed a protesting Stacy over to a grassy spot next to a tree and sat her down, starting a primary exam in the process. He checked her over from head to toe, palpating tender-looking areas and noting that she did indeed have a series of fresh bruises from the previous day's events. He had plenty of first-aid supplies at his apartment and suggested to Stacy that they go so he could treat her there.

Stacy found herself impressed with the skill Greg exhibited as he did his exam and the gentle touch he used while checking out some of the more tender spots. He was nothing like the arrogant and sarcastic jerk she'd had lunch with the day before and it occurred to her that there was a whole other side to the man in front of her than she'd given him credit for. So when he made the suggestion about having first-aid supplies back at his place, she agreed to go with him.

* * *

It was House's medical opinion that Stacy was in no condition to drive, so she reluctantly gave him the keys to her car for the short drive to his apartment. She let him help her out of the car when they arrived. During the few minutes it took to get there her body had started to stiffen up and she ached all over. House put his arm around Stacy to support her as she limped up the front steps and kept it there until they were inside the apartment and he had steered her to sit down on the couch. He went to the kitchen for ice, which he wrapped in a bar towel and brought out to her before heading to his bedroom for the first-aid supplies.

Stacy accepted the ice pack gratefully and allowed herself to sink into the well-worn leather couch, closing her eyes and leaning her head back against the cushions. She was surprised to discover that she really liked the way Greg's body felt against hers as he helped her into the apartment. They hadn't said much to each other during the drive over outside of his concern about getting her wounds treated. Or, as she considered the mostly one-sided conversation, he expressed concern and she tried to convince him that it wasn't anything serious and that she was fine, if on the sore side. She could hear rummaging coming from what she guessed was the bedroom and opened her eyes to get her bearings.

The first thing she noticed was a black baby grand piano in the corner to her left. It never occurred to her that Greg House might have musical talent, causing her to wonder what other sorts of talents might lie beneath the surface of this intriguing man. Continuing her gaze around the living room, she took in the guitars hanging on the wall behind the piano, the well-used fireplace, shelves of books lining the wall across from where she sat and the kitchen with its large and very heavy-looking old worktable in the middle of the space.

She noticed that there wasn't much on the walls aside from the guitars, really - a small shadowbox, a framed blues poster, a few framed prints, a couple of medical artifacts. There were more books and medical journals stacked haphazardly on the horizontal surfaces of the living room, including the glass coffee table. Other than that the walls, which were painted a warm shade of grey and trimmed with white molding, were largely bare.

House came out of his bedroom carrying a blue emergency bag and placed himself on the floor in front of Stacy, wincing as he knelt. He opened the kit and pulled out gauze pads and tape, several debridement sponges, a few small syringes of lidocaine, and Betadine swabs. Stacy watched him, his movements economical as he laid out everything he needed onto a blue surgical cloth on the floor beside him. As he pulled on a pair of exam gloves, she thought he looked like he was getting ready to perform surgery.

When he was ready, House sat back on his heels and looked up at Stacy with the hint of a smile, his eyes serious. Stacy looked back at him and wondered how she'd been so wrong about the man on the floor in front of her. _I could lose myself in those eyes._ She felt comfortable and cared for, even though he hadn't done anything yet.

"I'm going to need to clean out those abrasions with this." He picked up a debridement sponge and showed it to her. "I'm warning you now, it's going to hurt. A lot. I'll try to go as easy as I can, but I need to scrub out the dirt and anything else that might have gotten in there when you fell. I'm going to inject some lidocaine around the area to lessen the pain, but it's still going to hurt like hell." House looked uncomfortable for the first time.

Stacy suddenly got the feeling that he wanted to be anywhere but there and tried to reassure him. "Look Greg, I'm not made of glass. You're not going to shatter me just by scrubbing out a few scrapes. I can handle it." She sat up straight on the couch and looked him in the eye. "Do what you have to do."

House popped the capsule inside the debridement sponge, releasing the antiseptic contents into the spongy material. He pulled Stacy's left leg across his lap and took off her running shoe and sock, checking for any abnormal swelling in the ankle she'd twisted just before she fell. There was none, so he turned his focus back to the angry-looking abrasion across her patellar tendon. He injected small amounts of lidocaine into various spots around the area. Glancing up at her one more time, she nodded her assent. He took up the sponge and started scrubbing.

Stacy inhaled sharply the moment Greg started scrubbing at her knee and just as quickly hissed the air out between clenched teeth. House eyed her briefly but did not stop what he was doing. He didn't want to drag this out any longer than he had to and he knew he'd be at it for awhile. After several minutes, Stacy was breathing harshly through her nose and gritting her teeth and looking around for something to grab onto. Finally she grabbed hold of Greg's shoulders and tried to focus on anything but the scrubbing pain she felt first in her left knee, then her right. She allowed her mind to drift, the feel of Greg's shoulders under her hands a solid and reassuring presence.

House was concentrating on the abrasions he was cleaning when Stacy grabbed him by the shoulders. He looked up at her sharply, then saw that her eyes were closed. Her breathing was harsh, teeth clenched together in pain as a light sheen of sweat graced her brow, so he finished the debridement on her right knee and set the sponge aside without letting go of her leg. He cradled the limb and began to massage the muscles in her calf.

Stacy felt the pain in her right leg fade away amid a new sensation. She opened her eyes to see Greg watching her while gently massaging her calf. She relaxed at his touch and eased her near death grip on his shoulders, running her hands across to his neck and back down along his biceps. House gently set her right leg down and cradled her left leg in his lap, giving the same massaging attention to that calf. He felt hyperaware of what was happening in that moment and leaned forward, closing the gap between them until his lips brushed hers. There was no thinking, no rationalizing, just feeling like what he was doing was the next logical step. He pulled back, searching Stacy's face for any indication that he'd made the wrong choice.

"Hey."

"Hey."

"You okay?" His voice casual yet concerned.

"Better than okay." She replied, leaning forward to kiss him.

"Good." He said against her lips before capturing her mouth with his own.

Stacy's hands slid back up Greg's arms and across his shoulders before encircling his neck, drawing him deeper into the kiss. House set down Stacy's leg and slid his hands to settle on her waist, leaning her back into the couch without breaking the connection. They stayed like that for several minutes leisurely making out, tongues exploring, until House's own knees began to protest in pain. He groaned as he reluctantly pulled away from her and off his knees, which had their own abrasions from the earlier fall. He made a mental note to do some debridement on himself later so that the abrasions didn't become infected. He moved to sit on the couch next to Stacy, carefully taking hold of her left hand and stroking the back of it with his thumb.

Now it was Stacy's turn to look at Greg with more than a hint of concern. She knew he'd landed hard when he fell onto the path, although he never said a word and was more concerned about her injuries than his own.

"Your knees look worse than mine."

"That's because I've been kneeling on them. Damn near destroyed them, too, colliding with you." House leaned forward and kissed her. Now that he had taken the direct pressure off his knees, he barely noticed the pain. "I'm fine." he said, moving to kiss her again - only this time she pulled back.

"Shut up. You are not fine, Greg. You're hurt just as badly as I am, maybe more. Why don't you let me help you take care of this?"

House considered her words and opted to deflect. "I saw the bruises you got yesterday. That can't have been fun. And by someone on your own team."

Stacy saw right through what he was trying to do. "Don't deflect." She shook her head and regarded him with a growing fondness. "Jerk."

"I am." House agreed and leaned in to kiss her again. He decided then and there with a quiet smile that Stacy could call him a jerk for the rest of his days and he would be okay with that, as long as she continued to say it the way she just had.


	5. Chapter 5

It occurred to Stacy as she lay stretched out on the couch with Greg that she should have been back at work some time ago. She checked her watch to see that more than 2 hours had passed since she'd left for her run. She still had those legal briefs to get through and people - notably her boss - would be wondering what had happened to her. Glancing around for a phone, she spotted one on the small table at the opposite end of the couch and groaned loudly as she struggled to sit up and reach for it.

"I don't think you should go back in today." Stacy turned to see Greg watching her. Looking down, she saw that he was holding her by the waist so she couldn't reach the phone. He had a mischievous gleam in his eye. "Doctor's orders."

Stacy considered this. She had finally gotten Greg to let her help clean up his injuries. He hadn't made it easy for her, howling in feigned agony whenever she'd even get close to his knees with the debridement sponge, hiding the tape just as she needed it to secure the gauze in place and denying that he'd ever touched it, and doing his best to distract her with gentle touches and kisses.

The last thing she wanted to do was go in and have to work deep into the night on the stack of legal briefs she'd left on her desk. She knew for a fact that she'd be next to useless if she did. Her body hurt all over and she started seriously thinking about going home to take a long, hot shower and crawl under the covers. As if reading her thoughts, warm, strong hands slid from her waist up her back to begin a slow and steady massage of her shoulders.

"I can hear you thinking."

Stacy looked over her shoulder into those eyes. "Really? And just what is going through my mind?"

"That even though you know you should go back to work and tackle the stack of legal briefs on your desk, your body - your rather nice body - looks and feels like you've been hit by a truck and all you really want to do is take a hot shower and crawl into bed."

Stacy shifted in Greg's arms to look him square in the eye. "How did you do that?"

House smiled and shrugged. "It's a gift. Besides, with the exception of having legal briefs waiting for me at work, that's about how I feel right now." He leered at her. "So why don't you call your boss and tell him that you're under a doctor's...care...for the rest of the day. We'll order in. Relax. Recuperate. Get to know each other better." He leaned toward her, punctuating his next words by murmuring them against her lips. "You know you want to."

Stacy kissed him back. "That sounds like a wonderful idea. Now let me go so I can reach the phone."

* * *

While Stacy was on the phone with her boss, House went into the bathroom to start the shower, never more glad than at that moment that his building had an almost unlimited supply of hot water available to tenants. He wandered back into the living room as Stacy was finishing her phone call and stuffed the medical waste into a small biohazard bag he'd pulled from the emergency kit. She rolled her eyes at him, pointing to the handset. Apparently whoever she was talking to didn't know when to shut up. The phone call finally over, Stacy pushed the End button on the handset and put it back in its charging station as House went into the kitchen and dropped the biohazard bag next to the trash. On his way back into the living room he dropped the syringes into a small sharps bin.

"He gave me the rest of the day off. And tomorrow too, if I don't feel up to going in." Stacy stepped up to where Greg was passing through the doorway and grinned at him. "But I'm gonna need a note."

"That can be arranged. I happen to know a guy who knows a guy who can get you that note." House slid his hands around her waist, kissing her lightly. "Bathroom's at the end of the hall. Go get in the shower. You'll feel better." Stacy leaned in and kissed him again. When they separated, she remarked, "I didn't bring any extra clothes."

"I think you'll survive. If it makes you feel any better, I'll lend you one of my t-shirts. Now go. Scoot." House turned her around by the shoulders and pointed her in the direction of the hallway, lightly smacking her butt as she walked away. Stacy's laugh as she disappeared down the hall was easily one of the best sounds he'd ever heard.

* * *

Stacy closed the bathroom door and got out of her jogging clothes, feeling every aching muscle and joint as she did so. She slowly peeled the gauze pads off her knees and gingerly climbed into the shower. She groaned as the shower spray hit her back and shoulders. Stacy tried to figure out a way to keep the spray away from the abrasions, but quickly discovered that to be a lost cause and just allowed herself to enjoy the heat of the water cascading over her body.

House listened to the sound of the shower as he puttered around the apartment, and decided that Stacy could probably use a clean towel or two when she was done. He grabbed a couple of fresh ones from his bedroom and went to knock on the bathroom door.

"Are you decent? Better yet, are you indecent?" House called through the closed door.

"I'm almost done. Be out in a couple of minutes." Stacy called back from the shower.

House pretended not to have heard and slid open the pocket door to enter the steamy room.

"Greg!" she complained. "I said I'm almost done - you're letting the cold air in!" Stacy shivered a bit from under the spray as cool air from the bedroom made its way directly into the shower.

House quickly slid the door closed behind him and set the towels down on the toilet seat. "I brought towels. Figured you'd probably want one when you're finished since there weren't any in here." From where he was standing he could see the grey silhouette of her body behind the shower curtain as she washed the front of her body. "Need any help in there?" he said, feigning indifference while admiring the view.

Stacy could hear more than a hint of hopefulness in Greg's voice even as he tried to sound casual. Knowing that letting him join her in the shower would probably lead to something, she decided to invite him in anyway. "Well…I could use someone to wash my back. You wouldn't happen to know anyone who'd be willing to do that, do you?"

House stripped out of his jogging clothes, pulled the shower curtain open just enough to stick his head through and said, "I might. You interested?"

Stacy turned and reached for the back of Greg's neck, pulling him into the shower with her. "As a matter of fact, I am." She pulled him closer to her and down into a gentle kiss. House's hands instinctively slid to her still-soapy waist as soft kisses deepened into more passionate ones.

"You do realize you're going to have to turn around if you want me to wash your back," he said, pulling back from her mouth a couple of inches and gesturing a 'turn around' motion with his hand.

"Jerk." Stacy smiled and recaptured Greg's mouth with her own. As their tongues found each other, House's hands slid down to Stacy's ass and pulled her into his growing erection as she groaned into his mouth, her hips beginning to move against him. Suddenly she stopped and stepped back, eyeing him.

"Sorry. You're getting distracted. Here." She slapped a washcloth into his chest and turned her back to him.

"Nooooo!" He howled. "What are you doing, woman?!"

Stacy chuckled. "I thought you were here to wash my back. Better get going before we run out of hot water."

House soaped up the washcloth and began to wash slow circles over Stacy's back and shoulders as he stepped closer to kiss the back of her neck. "Guess I forgot to mention this building has an unlimited supply of hot water. Oops."

They took their time finishing the shower, passing the washcloth between them and casually washing each other while engaging in a lot more kissing. By the time they declared themselves finished, House laughingly observed that the water was starting to get cold anyway. Stacy smacked him in the arm as she climbed out onto the bathmat. She picked up the towels off the toilet and passed one over to Greg while using the other one to dry off.

House wrapped a towel around himself. "Don't move. Be right back." Stacy nodded while using the towel to dry her hair. House paused a moment to admire the view, then turned and slid the bathroom door wide open, sending a blast of cool air flooding into the space.

"Ahhh!" Stacy gasped loudly, and as House turned to leave she yanked the towel from around his waist, leaving him to walk into the bedroom naked. Stacy paused a moment to admire the view, then went back to finish drying her hair.

House pulled on a pair of well-worn pajama pants and an old t-shirt and got another set of each for Stacy. He went back into the bathroom, where Stacy was at the mirror trying to make her towel-dried hair look presentable. House moved up behind her and kissed her shoulder, then reached around and held the bedclothes in front of her. "Here you go." Stacy thanked him as she took the clothes. House kissed her shoulder again and left her to finish up, sliding the door closed behind him.


	6. Chapter 6

They decided to order from House's favorite Chinese restaurant and sat on the couch waiting for the food to be delivered. Stacy fit herself next to Greg's body as he put his arm around her. House couldn't believe how comfortable they had become with each other in less than 24 hours. He felt like he'd known her forever. They talked about inconsequential things and just enjoyed each other's company. At one point the conversation turned to music.

"Somehow you didn't strike me as the musician type when we met. Do you actually play? Or are those just expensive conversation pieces to get a woman into your bed?"

"No, I play. How well is up for interpretation."

"Anything in particular?"

House shrugged. "A little bit of everything. Mostly blues."

Stacy sat up a little straighter and looked at him. "Really? I went to this conference in New Orleans last month and completely fell in love with the music I heard there. Especially the blues. In fact, I was listening to some of it when we collided on the path."

House's heart lifted a little higher. "So was I. Listening to blues."

"Will you play for me sometime? I'd love to hear it."

"Sure. Need food first. Hungry."

As if on cue, there was a knock at the door. House got up and went to the door, snagging his wallet off the desk along the way. He paid the delivery guy and brought the large bag of food over to the coffee table. He flopped himself down next to Stacy and started pulling food out of the bag, passing her a set of chopsticks. They ate in companionable silence until there was nothing left but the fortune cookies. Stacy picked one up and unwrapped it. She broke it in half and pulled the strip of paper out. "I don't know why I read these things," she said. "The fortunes are always so stupid." She laughed and popped half of the cookie in her mouth. Then she read the strip of paper and choked. _This week, you will meet the one_ was written on the paper. As she coughed and sputtered, crumbs flying everywhere, Greg went to the kitchen for a glass of water for her. She drank gratefully, embarrassed at the spectacle she'd made, the words from the strip of paper echoing in her brain.

Watching Stacy down the water, House couldn't help but wonder what was on that strip of paper. Obviously it was something unexpected the way she reacted and not the least bit stupid. He glanced around for it. Not seeing it anywhere, he decided that maybe Stacy had just swallowed the fortune cookie wrong. He sat back down next to her and rubbed her back as she finished the water. When she was done, she set the glass on the coffee table and leaned back, chuckling. "Okay, that wasn't embarrassing at all." She turned to look at Greg, who still had his arm around her using his fingertips to caress her arm. Intense blue eyes looked back at her, searching. She could see the wheels spinning in his brain. "What?" she asked.

He considered before answering, his gaze softening and looking rather awkward, which she found oddly endearing. "Nothing," he said. "Should probably get you into bed, since that was the other thing you wanted to do. You can have the bed. I'll take the couch." House stood up and extended his hand to help her up, and together they walked down the hall to the bedroom.

Stacy hadn't realized how tired she was until she crawled under the covers of Greg's bed and yawned. House took his time tucking her in, and Stacy realized he was serious about sleeping on the couch. "You're really not going to stay?" Greg looked down at her with a grin.

"Didn't want you to think I was taking advantage of you in your weakened state."

"Get under the covers, Greg. You're not taking advantage of me by sleeping in the same bed." Stacy shook her head slightly, smiling. "Jerk."

House took all of 5 seconds to make his decision, the length of time it took him to get around to his side of the bed and crawl in. Stacy rolled over to face him. The late afternoon light softened the angles of her face, making her seem even more striking. House reached over and stroked her cheek with his knuckles. Stacy closed her eyes and once again marveled at the gentleness of his touch. She reached up and stroked his forearm. House ran his thumb lightly across her lips, then leaned forward and kissed her gently. Stacy slid her hand up Greg's arm to settle at the nape of his neck and pulled him closer, sliding her tongue between his lips, seeking him out.

House traced his hand down her neck, over her collarbone and down the length of her torso, settling on her hip. Just as the kiss was about to deepen further, House pulled back and looked at her. "We don't have to do this, you know. You're pretty beat up. And if you have any intention of going into work tomorrow…"

His voice was cut off as Stacy said, "Shut up," and pulled him back into a passionate kiss. Their tongues sought each other out again. Bedclothes were shed without a thought. And House lost himself in the feeling.

He let himself drift from her mouth to kiss along her jaw to the soft spot just behind her ear. When she moaned, he traced kisses down her neck, tasting and nibbling as he went, his hands constantly moving and caressing her body. Stacy shivered as the stubble on Greg's face created a sensuous burn line behind his lips.

Stacy's hands moved across Greg's shoulders and down his arms before drifting to his broad chest. She spent considerable time there caressing the warm skin and wished she could lean over to kiss him there, but Greg was gently rolling her onto her back as he kissed across her collarbone and down her sternum to settle between her breasts. She ran her hands over his shoulders and as far as she could reach down the muscles on either side of his spine as he cupped her right breast, stroking the nipple with his thumb. His touch was so slow and deliberate she thought she just might go mad from the sensations that made a hot, direct line from his touch to her core. When he replaced his thumb with his mouth and tongue, she was convinced of it. She could feel his erection pushing against her left hip and pulled him back up to her so that she could taste him again.

House's head was spinning with desire. He wanted to touch her everywhere, taste her everywhere, feel her everywhere, all at the same time. But always mindful of the fact that she was still in some semblance of pain from that morning he took his time, savoring every tremor, moan and sigh that escaped Stacy's body. His hands roamed her body as they kissed, his left sliding behind her back while his right slid down to cup her sex. Stacy's hips arched up to meet his hand and she reached for his erection without breaking contact with his mouth. She stroked his length gently but firmly, causing an involuntary moan to escape from him into her mouth. All at once his hands stilled in place and he looked into her eyes, searching. Stacy stopped her motions and gazed back. _Such amazing eyes. What does he see? What is he looking for? _So many questions raced through her mind in that moment, but what came out of her mouth was, "Yes."

* * *

Stacy's eyes never left Greg's as he reached behind him and opened the drawer to the nightstand. He rummaged around for a moment, then pulled his hand forward and showed her the foil pouch. His eyes never leaving her, House tore open the pouch with his teeth and went to sheath himself. "You're gonna have to move your hands." he said, with a gleam in his eye. "Somehow I don't think this is going to fit if you don't." Stacy chuckled low and husky, causing his cock to twitch as she removed her hands from him and slid them up his arms. House quickly put the condom on and reached over to wrap himself around her, moving between her legs, his uncomfortably hard erection pushing against her stomach. He leaned down and claimed her mouth, his tongue instantly granted access as she reached behind him to grab his ass and pull him closer. He groaned into her mouth as he leaned back to position himself at her entrance. Taking hold of his erection, he slowly slid the tip from the heat of her core to her clit and back down again, Stacy's hips straining to take him inside. House did this several times, deliberately prolonging the moment before slowly sliding his length into her. They gasped in unison at the sensation and paused while their bodies made the adjustment. _So good_, he thought as she murmured, "So good," against his lips.

House began to move, slowly pulling out to the tip before sliding just as slowly back in. They established a comfortable rhythm, Stacy's hips rising to meet his with each thrust. He trailed his mouth down her neck to her breasts, flicking his tongue around the nipple before sucking gently. Stacy's mind was quickly being reduced to murmurs, gasps, and moans as she trailed her hands up from Greg's ass past his shoulders to cradle the back of his head and tug on his hair.

Mouths searched and hands roamed as the pace quickened. House buried himself inside her and stopped, savoring the feeling of Stacy's core pulsing around him. Her warm brown eyes watched him closely as he balanced that fine line between control and abandon and when he opened his eyes to meet hers they both knew it was time. Seconds later they were trying to one-up each other with hands and mouths and movement in their race to the edge of ecstasy.

House latched onto one of her breasts and sucked, using his tongue to once again torment the nipple, and Stacy's mind began to explode into light and sound and feeling. _I lied. He can shatter me_, was her last coherent thought before her body dissolved clenching and pulsing around him. A long and sensuous groan escaped Greg's lips as his neck craned back and she could feel his own release before his head dropped down into the hollow of her neck.

They rested, wrapped around each other as breathing slowly returned to normal. House rolled over onto his back, bringing Stacy with him to curl up against his body. Her head on his chest over his heart, she listened to the strong heartbeat slow and steady itself, lulling her into a deep calm. House felt her body relax into his, her left hand idly caressing his abdomen as his right stroked her arm with his fingertips.

Stacy turned her head into Greg's chest, trying to hide the yawn she couldn't stifle. House felt her yawn and leaned forward to kiss the top of her head. "I think you've had enough excitement for one day. Get some sleep." She murmured something he couldn't quite make out as she drifted off, House following not far behind.


	7. Chapter 7

Tuesday

Stacy awoke feeling slightly disoriented, alone in a strange bed. She glanced at the clock on the nightstand across the bed from where she lay and noted it was deep in the middle of the night. She could hear music playing from somewhere and rolled out of bed stiffly to seek out its source, pulling on one of Greg's t-shirts that was on the floor.

She found him at the piano, lost in some blues piece and taking occasional sips from a glass of what looked to be scotch. She stood in the hallway at the entrance to the living room and just watched him, the way he managed to look both relaxed and troubled at the same time. _Such a dichotomy. I wonder what goes through that mind of his when he does this. _As if hearing her thoughts, Greg stopped playing as he looked up at her with a gentle smile.

"Sorry. Couldn't sleep." He took another sip of the amber liquid.

Stacy crossed the living room to join him at the piano. "What's wrong?" she asked, sliding onto the bench next to him.

House shrugged. "Nothing. I'm fine."

Stacy saw it for the evasive answer that it was and nudged his right shoulder with her left. "Care to try again?"

He turned to look at her, gently reaching up and tucking a strand of hair behind her ear before trailing his fingers along her jaw. She closed her eyes at his touch and put her arms around him, leaning her head against his chest. "You can tell me."

House considered his next words. Stacy thought he almost sounded like a small child. "I like you."

She laughed and hugged him close, looking up at him. "I kinda got that impression." He chuckled in response, but the emotion didn't reach his eyes. He looked down at the black and white keys. Stacy's laughter faded as she searched his face, seeing something like discomfort and even a bit of fear in that admission.

"Greg. Look at me." He glanced up at her. She cupped her hand on his face so that he was looking squarely at her. "I like you, too." She leaned forward and kissed him. "Come back to bed."

* * *

6:30 a.m. came far too early as far as House was concerned, reaching over to turn off the alarm. It was one of those mornings where he really didn't want to get out of bed, let alone go to work. He was supposed to lead his staff on Grand Rounds in Nephrology that morning, then meet with the pompous ass from Legal about yet another threatened lawsuit. All thoughts of work vanished as he felt Stacy snuggle up behind him, pressing her body against his and draping her left arm over his ribcage to play with the hair on his chest. House covered her hand with his, and she kissed him between the shoulder blades.

"What time is it?" Stacy asked against his back.

"6:30. I've got to go into work. How do you feel?"

"Like I don't want to get out of bed." She snuggled closer.

"I meant, how do you _feel_? Any unusual aches? Pain? Swelling?" He could feel her smile against his back as she trailed her fingers down his body to his groin, lightly stroking his morning erection. House groaned at the sensation.

"That is _not_ what I meant," he said, quickly becoming distracted by Stacy's ministrations. She propped her head on her hand and looked up at what she could see of his face, his eyes closed and clearly making no move to stop her. She took that moment as she played with him to just watch his reactions to the things she was doing and smiled at the effect she was having. When he rolled over to face her and opened his eyes, intensely blue, she could almost see the lust taking over as he returned her smile.

"You wouldn't be trying to distract me, would you, woman?"

"Now why would I do such a thing? You have to go to work, right?"

"Yeah. But you make a persuasive argument for staying home an extra day" His eyes narrowed. "Are you a lawyer?"

Stacy grinned, her hand gripping him a bit tighter with each stroke.

House groaned again. "Yep. A very persuasive argument. I think I'm gonna need a note."

He rolled Stacy over onto her back, bringing his face close enough to gently rub his nose against hers before taking her lips in a kiss. Her hand came up to his face, stroking the unshaven jaw as the kiss deepened. Suddenly he stopped what he was doing and looked down at her. Confused, Stacy searched Greg's eyes for understanding until she saw the mischievous spark there. "You are _such_ a distraction. Be right back. Gotta pee." And with that, House rolled out of bed and made his way into the bathroom. Stacy grabbed his pillow and threw it at him as he walked away, not even coming close to hitting him. She fell back onto her own pillow, exasperated yet amused.

House regarded his reflection in the bathroom mirror. He felt more relaxed and - he was loathe to admit - happy, and it showed in the image looking back at him. That worried him and his brow furrowed as he wondered how long it was going to last before he fucked it up. Stacy was by far the best thing that had ever happened to him, if he were to be perfectly honest. He knew full well that he was an arrogant, sarcastic and narcissistic ass - not terribly good looking, with zero social graces - and he wondered what good Stacy could possibly see in him. He had a hard enough time just finding a sliver of good in himself, let alone in other people.

House hung his head and stared into the empty sink, no longer able to look in the mirror as doubts and memories long suppressed took over. He stood like that for a long time, brooding, until warm hands touched him, sliding up his back to his shoulders and down to encircle his body. The ritual of self-berating over for the moment, House looked back up into the mirror, meeting Stacy's warm eyes with a small smile.

"Hey."

"Hey. Thought maybe you'd fallen into the toilet. Everything okay?" Stacy swore she could see storm clouds brewing behind his eyes and couldn't help but wonder what caused them, but she'd only just met the guy and it wasn't her place to ask. She didn't know if this was going to go anywhere, but after the night before she found herself rather hoping it would. She gently laid a kiss between Greg's shoulder blades before laying her cheek against him and giving him a squeeze.

House brought his hand up to cover Stacy's. "Yeah. Fine. Just thinking about work. I do have to go in." he said thinking, _If I don't show my face for at least Grand Rounds this morning, I'll be so fired. Again. _"I just have to be there to do Grand Rounds with my staff and then I'll be back. Shouldn't take more than a couple of hours." He broke their gaze and looked into the depths of the empty sink. "You can stay, if you want." he said quietly. "We can go have a late breakfast. Get a movie." He turned in her arms and looked down at her, grinning impishly. "Have sex."

Greg's grin was infectious, and Stacy couldn't help but to grin back at him. She arched an eyebrow and smacked him in the arm. "Is that all you think about?!" she laughed.

House shrugged, never missing a beat. "Don't blame me. Blame my gender." He leaned down and kissed her. Stacy's hands moved from his waist up to his chest, then upwards to reach the hairline at the nape of his neck as the kiss grew deeper. For a brief moment he thought about stopping things before they got out of hand, but as soon as Stacy's tongue brushed against his lips he was lost, bringing his hands up to tangle in her hair and opening his mouth to meet her tongue with his.


	8. Chapter 8

An hour later House was on the Nephrology ward at Princeton Community Hospital with his staff prepping for rounds. That he was clean shaven was his only concession to conforming to his boss' dress code. His shirt had never seen an iron, his lab coat - easily a size too small - was one he'd swiped from the locker room and the much-despised tie was knotted just tight enough to keep it around his neck. The fact that he was also wearing jeans and sneakers instead of slacks and dress shoes were yet another surreptitious thumb in the eye to his boss.

There were 5 patients on the ward, 4 of whom were progressing nicely and one who they were having trouble establishing causation for the sepsis that was putting his kidneys into acute renal failure. Jack Randolph, Chief of Nephrology, was of the impression that the cause was mild acute pyelonephritis. House countered that it couldn't be that simple because it didn't take into consideration the issue of sepsis. They went several rounds on this, with House determined to show that once again Randolph was being an idiot with his diagnosis.

It never ceased to amaze him that Randolph was head of the department anyway. The guy's diagnoses were rarely ever right and on more than one occasion House had gone around him to treat a patient because Randolph would have managed to kill the patient if he hadn't. He chafed at having to work for a guy who had about as much sense as an incompetent bonobo monkey, condescending to patients and staff alike while being a first class suck-up to the administrators who thought he was God's Gift to the practice of Nephrology.

Leaning against the wall while actively tuning out another one of Randolph's long-winded and pompous micromanaging diatribes, House wondered what Stacy was doing while he was stuck there. He'd left her a spare key so she could lock up in case she wanted to go home, and wondered if she would be there when he got back. He hoped she would, even as he worried that she'd leave as soon as she had the chance.

The doubts and memories of not measuring up to his father's demands of perfection began to surface again in House's mind as Randolph droned on, turning his mood from cautiously optimistic to resigned. Now that they were each left to their own devices, it was all House could do to not dwell on every possible way things could end badly with Stacy. Part of him wanted to bolt back to his apartment before she left, while the other part of him was convinced that she was already long gone. He sighed and pushed off from the wall as Randolph finished his tirade and walked away.

House's staff looked shaken, as they often did when Randolph had these moments. House was merely bored. He ordered up more tests for his staff to send to the lab, then headed to his office to think about how best to save the patient without getting Randolph involved.

The small office House occupied within the ward was about the size of two utility closets, just large enough for a desk and chair against one wall and a full bookcase against the wall behind the chair, with a metal and wood side chair next to the desk. There were no personal items to give any clue into the mind of the doctor who worked there, which is the way House preferred it - fewer things to have to pack when he got fired again.

House took off the stolen lab coat and tossed it carelessly into the side chair as he sat down heavily and picked up the phone, dialing Wilson's office at St. Francis Medical Center in Trenton. He wanted to bounce a few ideas about the patient off his friend, even though he knew it was at the risk of having to endure more questions about Stacy.

Wilson was in his office doing some charting when the phone rang. He was in a mood after yet another argument with Bonnie about that stupid trip to Europe. He noted from the number on the Caller ID that it was House and picked up the phone.

"Hello, House." Wilson sounded resigned, even though he was happy for the distraction from the monotony that was playing catch up with patients' charts.

"Wilson! What sort of trouble are you getting into over there without me?" House's mood lifted considerably at the sound of his best friend's voice. Combined with thoughts of Stacy and the way she made him feel, it crossed his mind that he sounded practically giddy.

Wilson heard the unusually upbeat tone and was instantly suspicious. House very rarely did upbeat, over anything. He wondered if it might have something to do with that Stacy person House had told him about, because House was all but whistling a tune over the phone.

Of course, that did nothing to help his own mood. "What do you want, House? I'm busy."

"Charting? That's not being busy. That's making busywork. Big difference."

"I'm between patients and thought I'd get caught up. You should try it sometime. How many months behind are you on _your_ charting?"

"Charting's for sissies. I've got better things to do."

"Like Stacy?" Wilson said casually.

"As a - hey…nice try, Jimmy!"

"Are you telling me you _haven't_ had sex with Stacy? Because you're in far too good a mood for there to be any other reason."

House sighed. He knew he wouldn't be able to keep this from the one person who knew him better than anyone. He wanted to tell Wilson everything that had happened since yesterday, but decided against it. Whatever was going on between him and Stacy was still way too new to share and he wasn't even sure she'd be there when he got back. So he did what he always did in that situation. He lied.

"I haven't even talked to Stacy, let alone seen her."

Wilson saw through the lie. "You're in far too good a mood for _something_ not to have happened with her."

"Did it ever occur to you that maybe I just had an exceptional time with a hooker last night?"

Wilson scoffed into the phone. "If that were the case, you'd be married by now." He paused, considering. "You saw her, didn't you?"

House leaned over and bounced his forehead on the desk a few times. Much as he hated to admit it, Wilson could be too damn perceptive for his own good sometimes.

"Yeah. I hadn't planned on it. It was an accident."

"How does you seeing her again happen by accident? You don't do anything by accident. What'd you do, hit her with your car?"

"Well…I did run into her…"

"Seriously?"

"No, you idiot. I went for a run at the lake. She happened to be running in front of me and stepped on a rock. I couldn't get out of the way fast enough and tripped over her legs. She got pretty banged up when she fell and was in no condition to drive, so I took her to my place to do some debridement and clean her up." House hoped that that would be enough information for Wilson to chew on so he wouldn't ask any more questions.

"Wow. Is she okay?"

"She's fine. Some bumps and abrasions, and she'll be sore for a few days, but she's fine. So am I by the way, thanks for asking." House added sarcastically.

"So what happened? Are you going to see her again?"

"I don't know. I hadn't really given it much thought. Did I not mention the fact that she's annoying? Maddening? A _lawyer_?"

The offhanded and sarcastic way House made the comment gave Wilson the impression there had to be more than he was letting on but, House being House, he decided that the best course of action was to change the subject. He'd find out the rest of the story soon enough. House would eventually tell him - he wouldn't be able to help himself.

"House. Was there a point in this conversation where you missed me telling you that I'm busy?"

"You're only doing patients' charts because you'd rather be there than at home. You're not even scheduled to work until tonight."

"Then why did you call me here if you knew I didn't have to be in until later?"

"Because you don't want to be at home. Since you knew I had to be here instead of at my place, where else would you go?"

Wilson had to admit House had a point but really did not like the way the conversation was going, so he made up an excuse and ended the call. He sighed as he went back to charting. It was going to be a very long day.

House hung up the phone and sat back, pondering the inevitable end of Wilson's second marriage. He wondered how much longer it would be until Bonnie kicked him out and he showed up on House's doorstep. It wouldn't be the first time Wilson had shown up like that. In fact, it seemed like every time the two of them had a fight Wilson ended up sleeping on his sofa, something that had been occurring more often lately. He looked around the sparse office space and sighed. _Fuck it. I'm going home._ He pulled a couple of Nephrology texts from the bookshelf to review and, tossing them into his backpack, he left the hospital, managing to avoid both Randolph and his own staff on the way out.


	9. Chapter 9

House unlocked the door and walked into his apartment. Without even looking, he knew that Stacy wasn't there and he found himself feeling oddly depressed by that. The apartment somehow felt emptier without her in it. He wondered if she'd decided to go into work after all, or if she had just decided to go. He wondered…

He tossed his keys on the desk and his backpack into a chair, put his jacket in the closet and poured himself a drink. He needed to not think for a while. Unless it had to do with a patient, thinking only served to get him into trouble. He wandered over to the wall where his guitars hung and pulled down the battered acoustic he'd had since 8th grade, carrying it and his drink over to the couch to settle in. Music had been his favorite means of escape for almost as long as he could remember, a way to express everything he couldn't say in words.

House took a long pull from the glass and set it down on the coffee table. His fingers played freely over the frets of the guitar as he picked out a tune, his eyes closing as he began to relax and allow himself to get lost in the sound. From time to time he would pause just long enough to take another drink before continuing to play. He never heard her open the door.

"Greg? What are you doing here? I thought you were supposed to be at work." Stacy arched an eyebrow at the look of surprise on his face.

"Changed my mind. Decided to come home early. I was bored. More fun here." House couldn't believe she had come back. "Looks like someone decided to take her boss up on not going in today."

"Yeah. Went home to get cleaned up, get some real clothes - you know, try to look presentable for when you got back. So much for that idea. You're already here."

House leaned the guitar against the couch as Stacy came over to join him. She sat down and curled up next to him, his right arm reaching up to come around her shoulders. She made a contented sound as she laid her head on his chest. "I missed you when you left," she said. "I wandered around the apartment trying to get a better sense of who you are. Somehow the place just seemed emptier without you here." House kissed the top of her head, savoring the smell of her hair.

"Learn anything interesting?"

Stacy grinned wickedly and turned to straddle his hips, sliding her arms around his neck. "You have very creative taste in porn."

House grinned back as she brought her lips to his, her tongue requesting access almost immediately. They kissed slowly, deeply, with the passion of lovers who had been apart for days instead of hours.

Stacy moved her hands to undo the buttons on Greg's shirt and lifted the hem of his t-shirt, sliding her hands across his abdomen and humming into his mouth at the contact. "I missed you," she sighed against his lips. "I missed this."

House's hands drifted from the tops of her thighs to the round of her denim-covered ass, his mind reveling in the sensation of feeling. They continued to kiss at a languorous pace as their hands rediscovered nerve endings in each other they'd forgotten since that morning.

Stacy pulled Greg forward by the opening of his shirt and helped him out of it. She tugged at the hem of his t-shirt and as she pulled it over his head he tangled her in it, pulling her against his erection and deepening the kiss. She ducked her head through his t-shirt wrapped arms, pausing to bury her nose in the hollow of his neck and inhale deeply before kissing her way down his chest and abdomen as he divested himself of the t-shirt, moving herself to settle between his legs. She looked up at him as she brushed her lips and tongue across the smooth skin of his abdomen just at the top of his jeans and House's breath caught.

He reached down to stroke her cheek with the back of his hand, brush her lips with his thumb, and she moved her hands up the insides of his thighs until they met at his groin to caress the erection straining his jeans.

Their eyes locked, House barely daring to breathe as he watched her hands move up to undo the button of his jeans and slowly slide the zipper down. He automatically lifted his hips when she started pulling them down to his knees, and she bent down to graze her lips and teeth lightly along his length through the fabric of his underwear.

House gasped aloud, groaning at the sensation. He couldn't take his eyes off of Stacy, what she was doing to him, until she pulled the waistband of his boxers down to expose the head of his cock. She exhaled hotly over it, flicking the very tip of her tongue against the ridge on the underside and House could no longer watch, his head falling back against the cushions and eyes sliding closed while he let her have her way with him.

Stacy concentrated her attention just on the sensitive head before finally tugging on the waistband to release Greg's cock from its enclosure. When he lifted his hips so she could pull his boxers down, she took him into her mouth, all the way down to the base. She thought the moan that emanated from deep within him was easily one of the sexiest things she ever heard and she set out to make it happen again. She tightened her lips around him as she pulled up towards the tip, wrapping her right hand around him close to her mouth.

She made her movements slow, snug and in House's mind, incredibly hot. He opened his eyes and looked down to see Stacy gripping him with one hand while running the underside of her tongue across the slit at the tip of his cock, which instantly made his mental list of the sexiest things he'd ever seen. He reached out to bury his hands in her hair without interrupting her. He never wanted to interrupt her. The things she was doing to him, making him feel, was quickly driving him to the edge of rationality. Again his eyes closed and he leaned his head back, if for no other reason than to prolong the experience. He knew that if he kept watching her, he wouldn't last much longer.

Stacy continued to torture him, until she felt Greg's hands move from her hair to her arms, pulling her up to him so that he could taste her. She took her time, licking and kissing her way to his mouth even as she felt the insistent tug on her arms. Her groin rubbed against his erection and they moaned, House sounding somewhat pained as the friction from her jeans wreaked havoc with his nerve endings. He took her mouth eagerly, plunging his tongue deep inside to try and taste every surface and she responded in kind. All at once he pulled back, looking her up and down.

"You have way too many clothes on. We need to do something about that. Now."

House reached out to grab the hem of Stacy's shirt, but she stepped back before he could touch it. She shot him a sly grin as she pulled the shirt over her head, while he took off his jeans and underwear, his erection flat against his stomach. Stacy slowly undid the button of her own jeans and slid the zipper down, sliding them off her legs and tossing them aside and leaving her standing just out of reach wearing nothing but her bra and panties. She thoroughly enjoyed teasing Greg like this. She loved watching his face as he watched her strip. She went back to straddle him, but stopped short when he shook his head at her.

"Still too many clothes."

Stacy chuckled and quickly ditched the bra and panties, straddling him so that her wetness was slick against his cock. They moaned into each other's mouths with the contact. He cupped her breasts and brushed his thumbs over her hard nipples before trailing a hand down her body to until he reached her sex, slipping a finger inside and moaning into her breasts at how wet she was. At an unspoken but agreed upon moment House reached into an inlaid box on the side table and pulled out a condom packet. Stacy moved back just far enough to give him room to roll it on after ripping the foil open with his teeth, then took him in hand and guided him inside. Everything after that disappeared into taste and sensation as they began to move.

House marveled at the woman straddling him, his cock buried deep inside, and wondered what he could have possibly done to deserve her. It still didn't seem real, that this beautiful, intelligent, amazingly sexy woman would want to be with a guy like him. But here she was, setting a pace that was neither fast or slow or demanding but so intense he never wanted it to end.

They moved as one entity, each taking the other higher until they were once again on the precipice. House captured one of Stacy's nipples in his mouth, pulling with his mouth and laving his tongue over the nub as he reached between them to move his thumb in small circles over her clit. Stacy gripped Greg's shoulders, her mouth latched onto his, sucking his tongue into her mouth, as she moaned her fall into the void that was sound, smell, taste and sensation and triggering his own downfall as she throbbed and pulsed around him. Stacy dropped her head into the hollow of his neck, kissing along Greg's collarbone as he wrapped his arms around her. He shivered, twitching inside as she gripped him tighter.

* * *

They stretched out on the couch as they recovered until their bodies began to cool, then shared a leisurely and affectionate shower bantering back and forth. After they had dressed, they returned to the living room to figure out the rest of the day.

As Stacy dropped down on the couch next to Greg, her stomach audibly growled. "God, I'm starving," she said. "Got anything to eat in this place?"

"You mean you didn't investigate the kitchen while you were exploring? I'm disappointed. Let's see. There's peanut butter. Beer. Oreos. There might be a couple of cans of soup in there somewhere, but you'll have to dig around a bit."

Stacy smacked him in the arm, grinning. "Don't you ever eat real food?"

House feigned shock. "In what alternate universe do you live where peanut butter is not a real food?"

Stacy rolled her eyes at him and stood up, pulling him by the arm until he stood up as well. "We're going out. I can't see us surviving on peanut butter, beer, and Oreos."

"But _Mom_," House whined.

Stacy laughed and hugged him, Greg's hands moving up to rest on her waist. "Come on. I'll buy you lunch."


	10. Chapter 10

They wound up at the same diner where they'd had their very awkward first lunch, only this time the atmosphere between them was completely relaxed. House found Stacy to be a creature of habit when ordering, much like himself, and they ordered the same things they had before. They talked about whatever popped into their heads at any given moment. Stacy went into a bit more detail about the legal briefs she was working on, and House told her about the patient whose sepsis he and his staff were trying to diagnose. He also spent a bit of time venting about his Chief of Nephrology so that she could start to understand the idiocy he had to deal with on a daily basis.

When the food came, the conversation turned to backgrounds and childhoods and life experiences - the types of things that people in new relationships tend to talk about. House was surprised to learn that Stacy did not, in fact, have brothers. She grew up in Mississippi and had wanted to be a lawyer since she was 6. He started to answer a question she asked about where he grew up, then grew pensive. Stacy immediately felt the shift in Greg's mood. He had gone from joking and inquisitive to practically mute in a matter of seconds and she grew concerned. She reached across the table and took his hand, rubbing her thumb across the back.

"I'm sorry. I didn't realize that would be such a sensitive subject for you."

"It's not your fault. You had no way of knowing." House looked down at the table and paused for a moment to gather his thoughts, the ones he rarely thought about and never discussed. "We moved a lot when I was a kid. My dad was a pilot in the Marine Corps, so we never stayed in one place for more than a few years. He had impossibly high expectations of me when I was growing up that I could never live up to, and we were never any place long enough for me to form any lasting friendships. I spent a lot of time alone." He glanced up at Stacy, wondering how much of himself he should let her see. "I'm okay with being alone - or at least I was for a very long time. Now I'm not so sure."

Stacy could see those storm clouds brewing behind Greg's deep blue eyes again, and tried to steer the conversation away from his family. "What got you into music?" she asked, breathing a small sigh of relief when she saw the tightness in his brow begin to ease, his gaze turning grateful.

"My mom got me started with piano lessons when I was 6. Dad never approved, convinced it would make me soft, but Mom stood her ground and he finally backed off. He'd still make snide comments from time to time, but for the most part he left me alone about it. That guitar you saw me playing when you came in? I got it when I was in 8th grade and taught myself to play. I've had it with me ever since."

Stacy was gaining more insight into this surprisingly complex man, and found herself even more attracted to him. It was obvious to her that he had a wounded soul, but it was also obvious that this was not something that necessarily needed to be fixed. She did suspect that it might have something to do with why he was so brilliant, sarcastic, and conflicted. Which got her wondering…

"When did you know you wanted to be a doctor?"

"High school. Actually, I'd planned on studying physics when I went to college. I read everything I could get my hands on about it and found the subject endlessly fascinating. Still do. But when I was 14 my dad was stationed in Japan and everything changed.

I went rock climbing with this kid from school. He fell, got injured, and I had to take him to the hospital. We came in through the wrong entrance and passed this guy in the hall. He was a janitor. My friend came down with an infection and the doctors didn't know what to do. So they brought in the janitor. He was a doctor. And a _buraku_. One of Japan's untouchables. His ancestors had been slaughterers, grave diggers. This guy...he knew that he wasn't accepted by the staff, didn't even try. He didn't dress well. He didn't pretend to be one of them. The people around that place, they didn't think that he had anything they wanted. Except when they needed him. Because he was right. Which meant that nothing else mattered. And they had to listen to him.

After that, I knew I wanted to be like him, like the janitor. I never wanted to be the kind of doctor that spent his days wiping noses and treating crotch rot. I wanted to be the one other doctors had to come to because they needed him. Because he knew things they didn't. Because he was right," he repeated, looking down at the table.

Stacy stared at Greg, moved beyond words at the intensity behind what he said. She wished that she felt that kind of passion for what she did. She loved being a lawyer, loved arguing facets of the law before judges who knew it far better than she did, trying to get them to see what she saw and rule in her favor. But she didn't feel the same level of passion that Greg obviously felt about what he did, and she wondered if she ever would.

* * *

By the time they got back to the apartment, all traces of House's pensive mood shift were gone and he had returned to his affectionate, playful self. Stacy asked Greg if he'd play something for her on the piano. He agreed, and she sat down next to him on the bench as he placed his hands on the keyboard. He looked at her with absolute seriousness then launched into a very simplistic and goofy version of Chopsticks, his gaze switching to impish glee as she laughed at his choice. Switching gears on the fly, House began to play the Professor Longhair classic Tipitina, his eyes closing as he lost himself in the music. Stacy couldn't take her eyes off of him, the way he looked as he played. Everything about him relaxed as his long fingers skipped over the keys, and she caught him softly singing the words to himself like a mantra. When the song ended he switched gears again, launching into Pachebel's Canon in D. Stacy gaped as she recognized the piece. It was one of her favorites and the subtle improvisation Greg added convinced her that he had more than just a passing talent.

The piece ended, the sounds of the last notes fading into silence. House's eyes slowly opened and he realized that Stacy had been watching him intently the entire time. He looked over at her and shrugged, something Stacy found more than a little endearing. She stood up and walked around the bench to face him, offering her hand. He took it and stood, moving to lean against the piano and taking her in his arms. She reached up and laid her hand on his cheek, running her thumb lightly across his lips before sliding her hand to the nape of his neck to kiss him deeply. When the kiss broke, she took him by the hand again and led him into the bedroom.


	11. Chapter 11

Mid-afternoon found House and Stacy again stretched out on the couch, this time reclining at opposite ends, each with their nose buried in a book and their legs and bare feet comfortably entangled.

The weather had turned ugly with an early spring storm, so any outdoor activities had to be scuttled but they were perfectly content with what they were doing. Stacy had browsed the myriad of books in the apartment and chose a novel she'd been meaning to read but never seemed to find the time for. She noticed that Greg had pulled a Nephrology text from his backpack and had settled in, balancing a legal pad on his leg and jotting notes on it from time to time.

There was blues playing softly in the background, and Greg had laid a fire in the fireplace that was burning quite nicely. It occurred to Stacy that there was nowhere else she'd rather be. Ever.

* * *

The storm finally broke long enough for them to make it to the grocery store so that there would be more in the apartment than peanut butter, beer, and Oreos. They picked up ingredients for dinner and some wine, as well as a few staples that House was sorely lacking before heading back to the apartment.

They cooked a simple meal of linguine with a white wine clam sauce, offering tastes to each other with a wooden spoon until they both agreed the sauce was perfect. Stacy made the salad while Greg busied himself making the garlic bread. They had started out with House making the salad and Stacy the garlic bread until he started popping cherry tomatoes into his mouth and trying to squirt her with the juice, causing her to laugh uncontrollably and call him an 8 year old. He took that as a compliment.

They brought their full plates and wine into the living room, where they reestablished themselves on the couch. They ate while watching a program about Iceland on The Travel Channel and planned an imaginary vacation that involved volcanoes and hot springs and ice hotels with bear skin rugs. Food gone and bottle of wine emptied, they took their plates back into the kitchen.

Stacy made to start cleaning up the pans and dishes from the meal while House complained. The fact that there were actually dishes that needed to be done only reinforced his belief in the wonder that was the paper plate.

"Come on. It's not like they have to be done right this second!" House whined.

He came up behind Stacy and wrapped his arms around her waist, kissing the soft spot just behind her ear in an effort to distract her. She ignored him, but her body belied what she was feeling as she shivered slightly with the contact. Emboldened by her response, House began to slowly kiss down her neck while reaching under her shirt to caress her abdomen and moving in closer so she could feel the erection that was rapidly growing in his jeans. She moaned softly as she felt Greg's hands slowly move up her abdomen to cup her breasts, as he kissed across the back of her neck to start kissing his way up the other side. Stacy thought she was fully capable of pretending to ignore the wonderful sensations Greg was bringing out in her, right up until he slid his right hand into her jeans to touch her through the thin fabric of her underwear. She dropped the soapy sponge into the sink and turned in his arms, wrapping her arms around his neck and claiming his lips, demanding entrance to his mouth with her tongue.

Somehow they managed to make their way to the bedroom, discarding clothes down the hallway amid constantly moving hands and mouths. They fell onto the bed as one, House's mouth and tongue burning his way down Stacy's body to her breasts. He teased and tormented the sensitive nipples until she cried out. Only then did he slow his movements as he licked and kissed his way down her stomach, settling himself between her legs. She squirmed when he dipped his tongue into her belly button and raised her hips to meet his mouth as he got closer to her sex. He slid his hands under her ass while using his arms and elbows to part her legs.

House breathed in deeply, savoring the heady scent of Stacy's sex. He could see the wetness that seeped from her and marveled that he was the reason for her response. Ever so slowly, he touched the tip of his tongue to her folds, the taste making him harder and causing her to arch her back in an effort to bring his mouth closer. He trailed his tongue up to her clit, the murmurs and moans coming from her beginning to drive him to distraction. Flicking it lightly with his tongue, he lifted her ass for a better angle and captured the clit with his lips, humming against her while using his tongue in ways that were quickly bringing Stacy to the edge of her world. House pulled his right hand from under her ass, drawing a finger between the cheeks to the entrance of her sex. Lost in a sea of nerve endings and sensation, Stacy groaned loudly as Greg slid a finger into her even as his mouth continued to drive her higher. She reached down to grip his head and he looked up at her without stopping, catching her watching him while unconsciously licking her lips, and with that he lost himself in a single-minded effort to bring her to climax.

Stacy watched him using his mouth on her and the moment Greg's eyes met hers she thought it was the sexiest thing she'd ever seen. She desperately wanted him inside her and desperately wanted him to keep doing exactly what he was doing all at the same time, until the moment he slipped a second finger into her while continuing to use his tongue.

She came undone then, lost in a sea of sensation and light and sound, her body quivering around and against him as he held her gently but firmly against his mouth.

It was all House could do not to come right then, the sounds and reactions her body was giving off turning him on beyond all reason. Somehow he managed to keep it together long enough to move back up her body, where Stacy plundered his mouth with her tongue. The taste of Greg's mouth mingled with the taste of herself, and she felt her wetness on his face, causing rational thought to coalesce into a single point: Having his cock inside of her. Right that very second.

House didn't pause long enough to put a condom on this time. He knew Stacy was on birth control and the things she was doing to his mouth had him sliding deep within her almost as soon as she plunged her tongue inside. She groaned into his mouth at dual sensations and reached for his ass to pull him closer. He buried himself in her and stopped, looking down at her face as he slowly ground their hips together. Stacy felt herself once again falling into those blue eyes and when he sealed his mouth to hers, beginning to move again, it felt as if he'd exposed every nerve ending in her body and every breath and sigh made her oblivious to anything else.

The change in feeling when House slid into Stacy nearly undid him, and once he began to move he lost himself in touching her, tasting her everywhere he could reach. It wasn't long before he felt her muscles clenching around him tighter and he found himself balancing on a tightrope of motion, sound, and sensation. He dragged his mouth across her jaw, stopping only when he reached her ear. His hands reached down to cup her ass and change the angle, quickening his pace, which served to drive them both closer to the edge of the earth.

Stacy was determined to bring him over first, clenching at him deep inside, kissing and licking and nipping everywhere her mouth would reach. She knew he was as close to falling as she was, but then he murmured in her ear and she felt herself shatter again into a million fragments of color and sound and feeling.

"Let go for me."

Her last coherent thoughts were that she'd never before heard anything so incredibly erotic, and _Yes. Always yes._

As soon as he said the words, House could feel Stacy's body lose control even as he fought to control his own, but it was all he could do to hang on and follow her wherever she would take him. Her body pulsing and throbbing around him overwhelmed his entire being, and he involuntarily craned his neck back, groaning her name as his release poured into her.

* * *

House awoke to the sound of the shower running. He looked over at the clock to see that it was after 11 p.m. and reached his arm over to the empty side of the bed, the back of his hand grazing the cooling pillow. He heard the shower shut off and the curtain slide back and knew that it wouldn't be long before Stacy left to head back to her place.

In as much as he might want them to, they couldn't stay ensconced there forever. They both had jobs and responsibilities and lives to get back to, but he deeply and sincerely hoped that this was finally the start of something good in his life. It certainly felt like it could be, but he'd had those hopes before and he always managed to fuck things up, or so he had himself convinced.

Stacy came into the bedroom to find Greg leaning against the headboard, wide awake and looking introspective. She was fully dressed and sat down on the edge of the bed next to him, placing her hand on his chest and leaning over to kiss him.

"In as much as I hate to do this, I really do have to leave. Those legal briefs aren't going to review themselves and I've got no fewer than three meetings happening tomorrow. I suspect I'll be sleeping in my office tomorrow night the way things are looking."

House looked at her casually, taking her hand. "It's okay. Really. I'm in the middle of a rather complicated case that I hope to diagnose before my boss decides to fire me, not to mention that I have a meeting with Legal about a pending lawsuit that I totally blew off yesterday. My best friend's wife is probably going to throw him out any day now because he doesn't want to try and get the time away from his Oncology patients so that he can take her to Europe on some vacation he doesn't even want to go on."

"Ouch. That can't be easy."

House shrugged. "She's thrown him out before, for one reason or another. When she does, he'll be here sleeping on the sofa. And Wilson's such a doormat, he'll let her do it."

Stacy shook her head. It amazed her how some people could be so insensitive about their spouse's careers. She felt lucky to have met someone who seemed to be just as committed to his career as she was to hers.

They sat there and enjoyed being together for a few more minutes with light caresses and occasional conversation that punctuated the silence. As Stacy stood to leave after kissing Greg soundly and deeply one more time, he stopped her.

"You're going to need this. Have your boss call me if he has any questions." He handed her the doctor's note he said he'd write for her. She read it over and chuckled.

"What? You said you needed a note."

"Yeah, but what kind of doctor writes legibly enough that you can actually read it?"

House grabbed Stacy and kissed her again, laughing into her mouth. "I am that kind of doctor. One of a kind."


	12. Chapter 12

Wednesday

As soon as Jack Randolph realized that Gregory House was back in the hospital, he called him into his office. House had barely closed the door when Randolph laid into him about leaving early the day before.

"_You_," he bellowed, stabbing a finger in House's direction, "are an irresponsible, arrogant son of a bitch and I _will_ have your job for this!" House looked back at him, unruffled.

"Why? The patient was stable when I took off and the other four patients will likely be discharged in the next couple of days. I left instructions with my staff for the labs I wanted drawn. There was nothing else for me to do but wait. Everyone knows I suck at waiting. My staff knew exactly how to contact me if the patient's status changed. I didn't see any reason for me to hang around twiddling my thumbs. So I left." House shrugged. "Come on. It's not like _you've_ never done it before. Tell me where I'm wrong."

Randolph was beside himself. While a completely irresponsible and arrogant ass, he had to admit that House had done nothing that would give him cause to fire him. Yet.

"You're off the case. Consider yourself on suspension for the next two weeks, House. Get out." Randolph seethed. "If I see you back here before your suspension is over, you're fired."

House's expression never wavered as he turned and left Randolph's office without another word. He was pissed at the thought that his idiot of a boss would likely kill the patient before he had a chance to finalize the diagnosis. He made his way back to his office to gather his things and to page one of his senior staff to let him know about the suspension, leaving instructions to call if there were any significant changes to the patient's status.

House figured that he may not be able to be in the hospital, but he really didn't need to be to diagnose the patient. He liked it better that way anyway. The less dealings he had with patients, the less likely they were to lie to him. _Everybody lies. _He yanked the hated tie from around his neck, grabbing his backpack and his jacket and headed out to the parking lot, stuffing the tie into a pocket as he walked to his car.

* * *

House went home and ditched his stuff. He changed into shorts and a t-shirt, grabbed his iPod, and went for a run. Despite appearing unperturbed in the face of Randolph's tirade, the suspension nagged at him. He needed to be at work, needed the challenges that making the correct diagnoses involved. He had absolutely no idea what he was going to do with himself for the next two weeks, and even though running through the park served to clear his mind he was still bored. The music coming through the earbuds helped to soothe his soul, but did little to silence the thoughts beginning to crowd his brain. So he ran. He ran to think. He ran to forget. He ran to burn himself out so he wouldn't have to think or forget. Twice around the lake and he headed home, sufficiently worn out so that the drink that waited for him might, if he was lucky, lull him into a stupor.

House entered the apartment breathing heavily, legs and lungs burning from the exertion. He tossed the iPod and his keys onto the desk and kicked off his sneakers. He peeled off his clothes and dropped them out of hand as he made his way down the hall to start the shower. He stepped into the tub and under the pounding spray and just let the water beat him into submission. He stayed in there until he felt the familiar fidgeting begin again in his brain. He sighed and shut the water off, toweling himself down and getting into a pair of pajama bottoms and a t-shirt.

He wandered into the living room, grabbing the bottle of scotch off the mantle on his way to the piano. He sat down on the bench, pouring himself two fingers' worth of the amber liquid and taking a long pull. Setting the glass and the bottle down on a page of sheet music left out on top of the piano, he set his fingers on the keyboard and closed his eyes, letting the music and the alcohol carry him away.

He didn't know how long he'd sat at the piano drinking, playing, and brooding; he hadn't bothered to put his watch back on after the shower. The phone rang. House ignored it as he poured another couple of fingers worth of scotch into the glass. He was in no mood to talk to anyone about anything. Until the answering machine kicked in and he heard Stacy's voice. He scrambled to answer the phone before her message ended.

"H'lo?"

"Greg? Is everything okay?" Stacy sounded concerned.

"Yep. I'm fine." The reply left his mouth automatically.

"I called you at work. A doctor named Clark answered your extension and told me you've been suspended for two weeks. What the hell happened this morning?"

Jason Clark was House's senior staff member, the one he'd left in charge during his suspension. Clark must've moved into his office for some much-needed privacy. _Probably getting my patients' charts caught up._

House sighed. "Yeah. As soon as I got in Randolph called me on the carpet about leaving early yesterday. It's no big deal. He always finds something to bloviate about. Today it happened to be me."

"What about your patient?"

"Not allowed in the hospital until the suspension is over. My staff can handle it, and they know to call me if there are any problems."

"So what are you going to do with yourself for the next two weeks?"

"Hopefully seeing you. How goes the review?"

"Long. Arduous. I think I went blind from eye strain an hour ago but I can't be sure."

House smiled to himself. "And the meetings?"

"Still have one more to go, in about fifteen minutes. I just needed to take a break from those briefs and thought I'd say hi. I miss you."

"The apartment does seem rather empty without you in it. I miss you too. Call me whenever you make it home, will you?"

"If I even make it home. I was serious when I said I'll probably be here all night."

"Then call me if you do end up staying. Don't worry about the time. It's not like I have to get up tomorrow."

"Just promise me you won't stay up all night drinking at the piano. Something tells me last night wasn't the first time you've done that."

House couldn't help but grin. "How long have you known me?"

"Three days."

House laughed. "Three days? Is that all?! Feels more like three years."

Stacy joined him in the laughter. He didn't do it nearly often enough, and she liked that she could get him to do it.

The conversation wound down, and Stacy promised to call later whether she went home or not. House felt one hundred percent lighter in mood when he hung up the phone. He still had his doubts that this would actually turn into something more than casual, but a small part of him dared to hope.


	13. Chapter 13

House fell asleep propped up in the corner of the couch, his bare feet crossed on the coffee table, a curling match on the TV. A persistent knocking woke him up, and it took a couple of seconds to get his bearings. He answered the door, half hoping it might be Stacy but knowing that it was probably Wilson. Sure enough, Wilson stood there looking like a lost puppy.

"Can I stay here for a few days?"

"Bonnie kicked you out again." It wasn't a question, merely a statement of fact.

Wilson sighed and entered the apartment as House held the door open. "Yeah. Got anything to drink?"

Nothing more was said as Wilson stashed his small suitcase of clothes, while House went to the kitchen for beer. When he came back into the living room he found Wilson slumped on the couch, morose. He handed Wilson a beer, then sat down next to him. They drank in silence until it grew so heavy that House couldn't help himself.

"Remind me again why you two are still married? Seriously. You got married on the rebound from that soulless harpy of a first wife, adopted that incontinent mutt whose only real goal in life is to destroy everything that exists less than two feet off the floor. You're miserable half the time and here the other half."

Wilson looked down at the floor. House knew him better than anyone and he knew that his best friend was right - again. He was always right, much as Wilson hated to admit it. He took a long pull from the beer bottle, looked over at House, but said nothing. It suddenly occurred to him that House was supposed to have been on call at PCH that night. He had planned to use his spare key to get in and only knocked out of sheer habit.

"What are you doing here, anyway? I thought you were supposed to be on call."

"Crossword puzzles. Infinitely more fun than work."

"No, really. Why aren't you at work?"

"Randolph suspended me for two weeks because I left early yesterday. I had all of my patients covered and my staff knows to call me if there's a change in that one complicated case. On the upside, he didn't fire me." House raised his beer in a mock toast.

"Are you okay?"

House took another drink from his beer. "I'm fine." He leaned back against the cushions and closed his eyes. Wilson knew that two weeks was a long time for House to go without his puzzles to chew on, and wondered what sort of trouble he'd manage to get himself into while he wasn't at work. _Maybe this Stacy person will stick around long enough to at least be a distraction for the next couple of weeks._

They finished the beer in the comfortable silence that only happens with your best friend, occasionally hurling sarcasm bombs in the direction of the TV.

Wilson finally vented his frustration about Bonnie and Hector the dog and felt better for it. They were well into the scotch and the cigars by then, in an unconscious mutual effort to drown their frustrations until they passed out in their own sick, when there was a knock at the door.

_Again with the knocking,_ House thought as he wove his way across the living room. Before he could get to the door, it opened and Stacy walked in. She sized up the situation in seconds, even as she saw that Greg was swaying so badly she thought he might fall off his feet. She saw the back of another head just above the top of the couch and guessed that this must be Greg's best friend Wilson. She tossed her purse in the corner next to the door and toed off her shoes as she made her way over to Greg, looking into his surprised and slightly unfocused eyes as she draped his right arm over her shoulder and guided him back to the couch. He dropped into the cushions like a stone and stared up at her with something of a deer-in-the-headlights expression.

"I thought you were going to be at work all night."

"I was. But it got to the point where I was so tired I couldn't see straight. I didn't want to sleep on the love seat in my office, and as it turns out your apartment is closer to the office than mine. So I came here." Stacy smiled down at Greg. "Didn't realize I'd be crashing Boys' Night. Do you want me to leave?"

House reached for her hand and pulled her onto his lap. "Not a chance." He kissed her gently, murmuring against her lips, "It's good to see you."

Stacy glanced over at Wilson just long enough to see him emerging from his stupor. He saw a beautiful dark-haired woman in a business suit sitting on House's lap kissing him deeply. _I don't remember us calling in hookers_, was his first bleary thought. _Huh. When did hookers start kissing on the mouth? _being the second. When the woman curled up into House's lap, her face snuggled into the hollow of his neck, Wilson realized that this wasn't a hooker. This was the much-discussed Stacy. He sighed to himself and closed his eyes again. _Well, at least one of us is happy._

Stacy got up off of Greg's lap and went to grab a throw blanket off the back of a chair. She brought it back to the couch and covered Wilson with it, then took Greg's hand and led him down the hall.

House crawled into bed at Stacy's direction and was asleep almost instantly, mumbling something to her she couldn't quite make out. She dug around in the dresser until she found a well-worn t-shirt and went into the bathroom to get changed.

Stacy slid into bed next to Greg and lay on her side watching him sleep, something she had never really taken the time to do in the few days she'd known him. His features relaxed, helped by the alcohol, and gave the illusion of an untroubled mind. She lightly traced her knuckles along his jaw, feeling the stubble that was beginning to form. She smiled as his face turned into her hand, his lips mumbling something she couldn't hear. She watched him until she could no longer keep her eyes open, then joined him in sleep.


	14. Chapter 14

Thursday

House woke up alone to bright sunlight streaming into his bedroom and groaned. Eyes closed, he rubbed his hands over his face and tried to piece together the later hours of the previous evening. He glanced at the clock, hearing movement and the clatter of pans in the kitchen on the other side of the wall and wondered how Wilson could possibly be awake and functional at six in the morning. Then again, Wilson had been a morning person for as long as House had known him. _I guess I shouldn't be surprised. The guy couldn't sleep in if his life depended on it._

"Wilson! Enough of the banging in there - sound carries, y'know!" House's head was pounding and the sound somehow seemed amplified.

Stacy walked into the bedroom grinning at him, still wearing his t-shirt. She held out a coffee mug.

"Such a lightweight," she chuckled. House scowled at her.

"You look like you could use this."

House sat up and took the mug from her gratefully, sipping at the hot black coffee. A small sound of contentment escaped him as the cobwebs in his brain slowly began to clear.

"What are you doing here?"

"Sudoku. You?"

"Pie eating contest." He took another sip of coffee. "Where's Wilson?"

"Still passed out on the sofa."

"Really? Wow. He's going to be insufferable when he wakes up. He gets bitchy when he's hungover."

Stacy looked him over. "I thought you said you weren't going to stay up all night drinking."

"I seem to remember you telling me not to stay up all night drinking _at the piano._ Which I wasn't. Wilson's wife threw him out again last night. He needed somewhere to vent and I couldn't let him drink alone, could I?" House set the coffee cup on the nightstand, scooting back to lean against the headboard and held his hand out to Stacy, who came over to sit on the edge of the bed.

"When did you become Rationalization Man?" she joked, gazing at Greg fondly.

"Since Wilson became my best friend. Usually that's his job, but I have been known to rationalize things from time to time." House moved to the center of the bed, giving Stacy room to curl up next to him as he wrapped his right arm around her.

"I need to go get ready for work." Stacy glanced at the clock before turning her face into the hollow of Greg's neck. He smelled faintly of cigars, scotch and coffee. She thought the smell suited him as she kissed him there, nuzzling the sensitive area. Greg hummed appreciatively and kissed the top of her head. She kissed her way up his neck, across the unshaven jaw until she reached his mouth, where she proceeded to kiss him thoroughly. Stacy slipped her tongue into his mouth, savoring the intermingled flavors there and he let out a small groan in return, gathering her into his arms. She allowed herself to get lost in what they were doing until that one responsible brain cell made her reluctantly pull away. She ran her fingertips down his jaw, enjoying the feel of his unshaven face and watched Greg close his eyes at her touch. _It's almost like he's trying to commit it to memory_, she thought. He opened his eyes, gazing intently at her and, for a brief moment, she considered calling in sick. He lazily traced fingertips up and down her arm while he watched her internal struggle. Stacy patted him on the chest, uncurled herself from him and stood up. "Gotta get up, get going. In as much as I'd love to, I can't just call in sick. I've got to be in court at 10."

"But it's only 6:30!" House protested.

"And I still need to go home, take a shower, put on some clothes that don't smell like I spent the night in a cigar lounge and try to look like I know what I'm doing when I face the judge."

House gave a slight nod, looking thoughtful for a brief moment before it was overtaken by an impish look. "That's not fair. The judge gets to stare at you all day, and all I get is my imagination. And a sock."

Stacy laughed, turning to leave the room at his expression. House felt his grin fade back into thoughtfulness as he listened to her moving around the apartment, the sounds comforting in their own way. Sliding back down the headboard into the pillows, he laid back and drifted off in a rare state of contentment.


	15. Chapter 15

An hour later House woke up to a silent apartment, and he knew Stacy had left. He glanced at the clock to see a note propped up against it, blocking the time.

_Didn't want to wake you. You looked kinda cute  
__with your arms flung all over the place. Will call  
__you when we have a break. Dinner tonight?  
__\- S_

House smiled to himself. He liked the way things were going with her more and more. Oddly enough, he found the feeling of happiness that was beginning to settle into his brain not nearly as daunting as he had earlier in the week. It still scared him, with the nagging thought that a relationship with her would never work, but he had to admit he liked the way she made him feel.

* * *

Wilson came to consciousness still sitting upright on the couch, his chin resting on his chest. He rubbed the back of his sleep-stiffened neck as he raised his head, looking around for House. Not seeing him in either the living room or the kitchen, he groaned his way to his feet and staggered off down the hall to the bathroom. After draining his bladder, he stood at the mirror and contemplated his hungover image. He couldn't believe Bonnie had thrown him out again, couldn't believe he was sleeping on House's couch again, couldn't believe… He splashed cold water on his face and started to feel a little more human, then wandered into House's bedroom and leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms and looking at his friend.

House raised his head, meeting Wilson's gaze. "What?"

"Is it my hungover imagination or was Stacy here last night?"

"She showed up sometime between the end of the curling match and the start of the highlights of last year's darts finals. I thought she was going to sleep at the office. She changed her mind and ended up here."

"When am I going to get to meet her instead of thinking I dreamed her?"

House shot him a quizzical look, propping himself up on his elbows "You thought you _dreamed up_ Stacy?"

Wilson held up his hands. "Hey, I was drunk."

House chuckled. "True enough. Breakfast?"

Wilson shook his head. "Can't. I've got a patient with stage IV glioblastoma that was readmitted last night."

"Is he going to die in the next hour and a half?"

Wilson hesitated for the briefest of moments before answering. "No. Why?"

"Good." House said, swinging his legs off the bed. "Let's go." As he sat up, his head started pounding again. "Ugh." He dropped his head into his hands, suddenly feeling the need for a shit load of Ibuprofen. Or Imitrex.

"Where're we going?"

"Breakfast."

They took their showers and dressed: Wilson for another day in Oncology, and House in his usual attire of jeans, sneakers, t-shirt and jacket. He wandered into the kitchen to grab the bottle of Ibuprofen out of the junk drawer before they headed out the door.

* * *

For the third time in less than a week, House found himself at the diner near the apartment. It almost felt weird being there without Stacy, but if he couldn't be there with her then being there with Wilson was a very good second choice. They ate and joked and talked and vented about everything and nothing.

It never ceased to amaze House that the act of bailing a guy he'd never met out of a New Orleans jail several years ago would lead to the longest relationship he'd ever had. Wilson put up with him at his best, worst, and most pathetic and never left him, no matter what House might do subconsciously to sabotage the friendship. And he still wasn't boring.

* * *

Afterwards, Wilson left for the hospital and House went back to his apartment. He pulled out one of the Nephrology texts and settled onto the couch to see if there was anything in there that might help him diagnose his patient. He hadn't gotten any calls from Clark or anyone else on his staff, which could either be a good thing or they were trying to protect him from Randolph. It had been known to happen. Either way, he had a feeling that something was bound to shift with that case soon. He couldn't let it go though, digging deeper into the text then pulling out the other one he'd brought home with him, flipping pages and losing himself in the puzzle.

When Stacy called later that morning, she noticed that Greg sounded distracted. Even after she told him that the judge had called a recess until Monday, she got the impression that he wasn't quite following the conversation and wondered if it had something to do with the patient he'd told her about. She let him know she'd be by in a couple of hours and they ended the call. She gathered her things and left the courthouse, running a few errands on her way home.

House hung up the phone and went back to his reading, having barely taken his eyes from the text during the conversation with Stacy. Part of him felt bad, but that part was overridden by his need to figure out what was potentially killing his patient.

He paced the living room with the Massry &amp; Glassock's text in one hand to break the monotony of sitting, waiting for his brain to finally get all the pieces to fit. He knew it was there, just out of reach. He also knew that the answer would likely come to him while he was doing something other than thinking about it.

With a sigh of exasperation, he tossed the text on the sofa and wandered over to the piano.

* * *

Stacy knocked on the door to Greg's apartment around 2:45, carrying a weekend bag with a few changes of clothes and a large paper bag with take out from Greg's favorite Chinese restaurant. After a long moment she heard shuffling and the unlocking of the door, which then opened to reveal a tired and disheveled Greg House. His face brightened when he saw her, which made her feel better as she walked into the apartment. He took the bag with her clothes and brought it to the bedroom while she took the bag of food over to the coffee table and began taking cartons out.

House leaned against the archway between the hall and the living room, hands in his pockets, taking in Stacy's casual beauty as she unpacked their lunch. She was wearing jeans and a crew neck top with long sleeves and he found his mind calming itself almost immediately. His heart lifted noticeably when she looked over at him and smiled. He pushed off the archway and went to sit down next to her on the couch, reaching to grab one of the cartons, a pair of chopsticks, and the remote for the TV before propping his bare feet up on the coffee table and settling back into the cushions. Stacy got up to get them a couple of beers and when she returned she couldn't help but laugh at the sight of Greg deeply engrossed in _Prescription Passion_, of all things.

"You actually _watch_ this crap?!" She laughed again at the absurdity.

He shot her a look and shushed her, turning back to the TV. Stacy grinned and ate from her carton in silence, stealing amused glances at him until the commercial, then looked over at Greg with a raised eyebrow.

"Seriously?"

House looked at her askance. "What? This is a very intense time for Marjorie." He gestured at the screen. "Her son is in a coma after a tragic unspecified near death experience. His girlfriend is about to deliver quadruplets, which he thinks are his but are really only half his. Marjorie knows who the father of the other half is, but she's not telling. And then there's nurse Brandy, who - "

"Greg, it's a _soap opera_." Stacy interrupted. "Pure fluff. What possible interest could you have...?" As the words left her mouth, the commercial ended and the soap came back on. The first shot was a close up of a comely and buxom nurse, and suddenly Stacy understood everything she needed to know about why Greg enjoyed his soap.

"Ahh," she continued, chuckling. "I get it now. Forget I said anything." She poked at the noodles in her carton, shaking her head in amusement at the guilty pleasure this complex man was indulging in.

When the episode ended House turned the TV off and they cleared the cartons and bottles into the kitchen trash, Stacy making it a point to toss the fortune cookies away. She didn't want to take any chances. They moved easily around each other in the smaller space, Stacy poking good natured fun at him for his choice of entertainment.

"You actually watch that every day?"

"Every day I'm not stuck somewhere without a television."

"Sounds complicated."

House grinned and shrugged. "Hey, I'm a complicated guy."

Stacy wandered over and hugged him. "Complex guy, definitely. Complicated? Not so much," she said, bringing his head down to kiss him soundly. "So what should we do the rest of the day? Court's in recess until Monday, which means I actually have a long weekend for a change."

"Really?" House gathered her up in his arms, leaning back against the sink. "I can think of a few things we could do to celebrate," he said, murmuring against her neck.

Stacy laughed. "Obsessive much?" she joked, and pulled him closer.


	16. Chapter 16

They decided to get out of the apartment for a while to clear their brains. Stacy had noticed a large black motorcycle parked outside Greg's building whenever she'd come over and wondered if it might be his. Turns out it was. House brought a spare helmet from the hall closet for her and they headed over to Hopewell Valley to do a bit of exploring for the rest of the afternoon.

Stacy had climbed onto the back of the motorcycle without hesitation, wrapping her arms around Greg's waist as if it were the most natural thing in the world. The ride only took about twenty minutes but to House they were quite possibly the best minutes of his life. The feeling of having Stacy snuggled close on the back of his bike and leaning easily with him into every turn was almost better than sex. Almost.

There wasn't much going on in the township as most people were still at work. They explored the shops and galleries and just enjoyed each other's company away from the apartment and the diner, really the only two places they had interacted the entire week.

House began to get more of a sense of Stacy's personality as they wandered and took notice of things that she paused to admire or touch or comment on. They held hands as they walked and it struck him yet again how good her hand felt in his. He felt almost buoyant with her and it worried him, even as he couldn't help but enjoy himself when he was around her.

They sat on a bench in a nearby park, feeding stale bread to the ducks on the pond. House's left arm was casually draped across Stacy's shoulders as they chatted and bantered and enjoyed the atmosphere. When the bread was gone and the ducks had left in search of more food, Stacy leaned her head against Greg's chest and sighed contentedly. She was very glad not to be at work, which is where she seemed to spend most of her time recently

Once again she found herself thinking that there was nowhere she'd rather be than in this place, with this man. She was pragmatic enough to know that getting seriously involved with someone as inherently complex, intense and immature as Greg House would be more than a handful. Just in the few days that she'd known him, she'd discovered so many facets to his personality that she could spend her entire life trying to understand him and only barely scratch the surface. Not that she would mind trying. Stacy thought back to the fortune cookie she'd opened the other day. _This week, you will meet the one_ was all but engraved in her brain and she idly wondered if it might actually be true as Greg tilted her head up towards his and bent down to kiss her.

* * *

Stacy suggested going out for sushi for dinner that night and asked Greg if his friend Wilson might be able to join them. House tried to make excuses as to why that was a bad idea, not really wanting to subject Stacy to so much Wilson-ness in public. He tried to argue that Wilson could be more annoying than dinner out with your parents. Stacy was having none of it, insisting that she wanted to meet the man Greg considered to be his best friend. House finally relented, calling Wilson at the hospital to pass along the invitation. Wilson immediately jumped at the opportunity to meet the woman who would willingly spend so much time with Gregory House without filing a sexual harassment lawsuit against him.

* * *

House and Stacy arrived back at the apartment an hour later. As soon as the door closed, he turned and backed her up against it, capturing her mouth with his own, his tongue lightly but eagerly requesting access. Stacy groaned into his mouth, wrapping her hands around the nape of his neck, pulling him closer. They were both slightly out of breath and grinning when they finally separated.

"Shower?" House asked.

"Shower." Stacy agreed. She took off through the living room, peeling off her shirt. House gave chase, his long legs catching up with her by the time she crossed the archway to the hall and reaching around her waist to lift her off her feet mid-stride.

"You cannot escape me - MUHWHAHAHAHAHA!" He said, with a wicked mad scientist laugh.

Stacy laughed, kicking her feet into the air and half-heartedly trying to escape. House carried her this way down the hall, only setting her down once they were in the bathroom. They looked at each other and continued to chuckle, their arms around each other, until there was a palpable change in the room and House bent down to take her mouth again. They stayed that way for several minutes, savoring the taste and feel of each other. Stacy finally stepped back long enough to turn around and start the shower, House moving in close behind to pull her by the hips into the growing bulge in his jeans.

Stacy straightened and leaned back into Greg's body, savoring the feel of his long, lean body wrapped around hers. His head bent down to kiss her neck and at the soft spot behind her ear as his hands travelled up her torso to cup and fondle her breasts. She arched her back into his touch, reaching behind her, pushing her hips into his groin, and moaned softly at the sensations. One of House's hands left Stacy's breast, sliding down her abdomen and deftly undoing the button and zipper of her jeans before continuing down to cup her sex while the other continued to torment and tease her breast. She moved against him, grinding her ass into the erection straining his jeans and reveled in the feeling of what she was doing to him, what he was doing to her.

She turned around, pressing herself against him and reaching for his ass to pull him even closer. Their lips met, parted, their tongues fighting a battle only punctuated by moans and sighs. They undressed each other and got into the shower, where they continued the dance between mouths and hands and bodies.


	17. Chapter 17

Wilson arrived back at the apartment around 6. House and Stacy were nowhere to be seen, but when Wilson noticed that both House's car and his bike were in front of the building and the bathroom door was open, he figured the two of them were probably in bed. He went about getting out of his suit and into clothes considerably more comfortable, then got himself a beer and went to kick back on the couch. He turned the TV on and settled in to wait.

House and Stacy were getting dressed when they heard Wilson come into the apartment. House tried to prepare Stacy for the myriad questions Wilson was likely to ask while they were at dinner, but Stacy was unperturbed.

"Greg. I ask questions and argue with people all day. That's my job. I'll be fine. I can handle Wilson."

"Okay. But don't say I didn't warn you." House sat on the bed and tied his sneakers before looking back up at her. "Ready?"

"As I'll ever be."

They walked into the living room, House hanging back while Stacy went over to where Wilson was sitting and offered her hand.

"Stacy Collins. You must be Wilson. I've heard a lot about you."

Wilson stood, mildly surprised at her directness. He shook Stacy's hand and glanced over at House, who was watching their interaction with amused interest.

"James. Nice to finally meet you. House speaks very highly of you, which is impressive on its face. House doesn't speak highly about anyone."

"I got that impression. He speaks just as highly of you, he just doesn't realize it."

They regarded each other easily, with the unspoken understanding that they were quite possibly the only two people in the state of New Jersey who actually liked Gregory House for who he was. They both looked over at House, who gave the hint of a nod and a quiet smile of approval. Gathering their things, they left for the restaurant.

* * *

The three of them spent a casual and enjoyable evening eating sushi and telling stories. Stacy told amusing anecdotes about growing up in the Deep South, of her law school days, and of some of the weirder legal cases she'd dealt with over the years. Wilson and House told her the story about how they met for the first time and some of the many tales of their pranks and misadventures together. Stacy watched their interactions and couldn't help but marvel at the comfort level between the two men. They practically finished each other's sentences.

James was obviously the more mature of the two. She got the impression that he frequently acted as Greg's conscience, whether he knew it or not. Greg was almost always the instigator, having the emotional age of a 8 year old but regardless of what they were getting into, their pranks were never malicious and usually directed at each other.

Wilson watched Stacy as she animatedly told them about one particularly outlandish case she'd had early on in her career that had both him and House laughing at the imagery, and still found it difficult to believe that she would willingly spend as much time as she had with House. For his part, House's demeanor had brightened considerably over the past few days and, while it worried him in the beginning, now that Wilson was spending time around them both he had to admit that this was looking to be anything but a disaster. _She's good for him. _

House watched Stacy as she told some story that had happened while she was a young public defender or something. He wasn't paying much attention to the words, he was listening to the sound of her voice - watching her face and the way she gestured with her hands as she talked, and was captivated all over again.

Then that small thought in the back of his head began to poke at him and he grew pensive, the other voices at the table fading as the one in his head took hold. His eyes strayed from Stacy's face to look out the window, gazing at nothing as thoughts gathered and churned in his brain. He started to worry that she was too easy to be around, that he was starting to get too comfortable in the way she made him feel, that he was falling for her hard and they hadn't even known each other a week. The more the thoughts crowded into his brain the more he began to brood, his brow furrowing as he stared out into the night. _There's no way this can end well. It never does._

Stacy noticed as she talked that Greg seemed to have lost interest in the conversation and was staring out the window, his face looking more introspective and troubled than she'd seen it before. She wondered again what went through his mind when that happened, what doubts and fears he fought to tamp down on a daily basis, and stretched a leg under the table to reassuringly rub her ankle against his calf. He glanced at her gratefully and appeared to try and drag himself back into the conversation, but the lightness and joviality from earlier never reached his eyes.

Wilson felt the shift in atmosphere at the table as he saw Stacy's attention focus on House, whom he noticed was staring out the window with a look on his face Wilson knew only too well. He saw House startle a bit before looking over at Stacy with grateful eyes and knew that she had done something under the table to distract him from his thoughts.

As the evening wound down, Wilson announced that he had to go back to the hospital to check on his glioblastoma patient, who was expected to die in the next day or so. He picked up the dinner tab out of habit, and left Stacy to deal with House and his mood.

* * *

House didn't say much on the drive back from the restaurant, deflecting or evading at every opportunity. He was too busy trying to push back the thoughts crowding his brain and was convinced that if he opened his mouth beyond a perfunctory response he would say something to Stacy that he would instantly regret and cause her to leave.

Stacy knew there wasn't much she could do to pull Greg out of his mood, so she just rested her hand on his leg to let him know she was there for him. He would take as much time as he needed to pull himself out of the abyss, and she would be there to wait out the storm.

* * *

When they arrived back at the apartment, Stacy went into the bedroom to change while House poured himself a scotch and sat down at the piano. He took a long drink and stared at the keys, not quite knowing where to begin. He only knew that he felt like he was going to implode if he didn't do something to ease his mind. He put fingers to the keyboard and began to play, nothing in particular at first, just letting them roam the keys. His eyes closing, random notes became pieces he'd written in junior high and high school when music was the purest form of escape and solace, melancholy in sound and expressing all of the doubts and fears that he had never been able to put into words let alone admit, even to himself.

Stacy listened to the melancholy tones coming from the living room as she changed into a pair of shorts and a t-shirt that she pulled from her bag, and she tried to decipher the meaning in the music. She sensed something different about Greg's demeanor from the moment she saw him staring out the window at the restaurant, something far deeper than the fleeting glimpses of pensiveness and doubt she'd seen earlier in the week. She draped her clothes on a chair and went into the living room, sliding onto the bench next to Greg and rubbing his back with her left hand while resting her head against his shoulder as he played.

House felt more than saw Stacy move to sit next to him on the piano bench, her hand warm and comforting as she began to rub his back. He sighed to himself when she leaned her head onto his shoulder and paused in playing long enough to take another drink from the glass.

"Is there anything I can do?" she asked.

_Stay_, he thought.

He looked over at her, his gaze softening. He read the worry and concern on her face and tried to smile, but he couldn't bring himself to feel it with the defeatist thoughts that pervaded his brain. He shook his head, not trusting his voice.

"Do you want me to leave?"

"No." _Don't go. Please._

So she stayed with him, a comforting presence for his troubled soul as he played and drank well into the night. When he started to fall asleep where he sat, Stacy helped him into bed and held him during his restless sleep.


	18. Chapter 18

Friday

Stacy woke up slowly and found that Greg had wrapped his body around hers in the night. She snuggled back into his chest, smiling as she felt his arms tighten gently around her, and there was something in that simple action that told her whatever storm had happened in his mind the night before had passed with the dawn.

House woke up slowly, his head pounding and his body wrapped around Stacy's. He smiled as he felt her snuggle her back into his chest and lightly tightened his arms around her, leaning over to kiss the back of her neck. He felt her shiver just a bit, and her arms came up to cover his. They lay that way for a time before she turned in his arms and rested her forehead against his. He closed his eyes and breathed her in, thinking that there was no place else he ever wanted to be. There were so many things he wanted to tell her, needed to tell her about what kind of a mistake she would be making by getting involved with someone like him. He just wasn't quite sure how to go about it.

Stacy pulled her head back and took in Greg's face. She cupped her right hand against his unshaven jaw and smiled when he turned his head into her hand, kissing her palm.

"You seem to be in much better spirits," she said, deciding to keep things light. Greg hummed into her hand in agreement, although his brain told him otherwise.

"Wanna talk about it?" Stacy thought she felt Greg's body stiffen for the briefest of moments before seeming to relax again.

"I…" he started, before his brain told him to shut up. He shook his head into Stacy's palm, looking down into the sheets before meeting her clear brown eyes. He saw no reproach there, no condemnation for his behavior the previous night. What he saw there surprised him: Stacy's face was open with a look of warm affection and a hint of something else House couldn't define.

Stacy smiled at the startled look on Greg's face as he searched her own and read the emotions visible there. She wondered how a man so incredibly brilliant and capable of reading people could be so completely oblivious when it came to himself. In that moment she knew she was starting to fall for him hard, and was surprised to find that it felt like the most natural feeling in the world.

"Shhh. There's no hurry. I'm not going anywhere." She began to stroke his jaw with her knuckles. Greg's eyes narrowed slightly with suspicion at her words, and she wondered if anyone aside from his parents had ever told him that they loved him. By the look on his face, she was guessing that no one had in a very, very long time.

"I don't… " he started again, still searching her face for something, anything that would tell him what to say. She watched him patiently, studying the face that studied her when the realization suddenly hit her. _He doesn't think he deserves this._ And it moved her.

House finally gave up the battle between what he wanted to say and what he saw in Stacy's eyes and leaned into her, murmuring, "Words don't matter. Actions matter," against her lips before he kissed her deeply in an attempt to show her everything he couldn't tell her.

Stacy groaned into Greg's mouth when he kissed her, his tongue sliding smoothly into her mouth. His hands glided down her back to her ass, pulling her against him as her arms wrapped around his neck to deepen the kiss further. Their bodies became entangled as they awkwardly tried to undress each other while laying on their sides and they smiled and chuckled at the absurdity. The instant the last stitch of clothing was removed they came back together like rare earth magnets, all mouths and hands and legs.

House rolled Stacy onto her back, his mouth never leaving hers. She spread her legs, welcoming Greg between them and hooking her ankles behind his back. He took his time in an attempt to taste and savor and feel every micron of her body and groaned at her body's response. House pulled his mouth from hers, dragging it across her jaw and down to her neck. Stacy's head craned back to give him more access to the sensitive skin and shivered slightly at the feel of Greg's unshaven face. House let his eyes drift closed, letting his other senses take over as he tried to commit her body to memory. He tasted his way down to her breasts and felt his cock twitch in response to her gasps and moans. He took her right nipple into his mouth while rolling the left one between his fingers, her fingers clasping at the back of his neck to pull him closer.

Stacy's mind dissolved into nothing the moment Greg's mouth went to her breast. She could feel him everywhere. Everywhere but at her core. She could feel him hard against her wetness and raised her hips to rub against him. House's brain lost all function the moment she did that. Suddenly, there was no place he'd rather be than buried deep inside her. He pulled his hips back, breaking the contact, and Stacy groaned at the loss, involuntarily following him with her hips. As she did, he brought his hips forward, his cock sliding effortlessly into her. His hands moving behind her back to tangle his hands in her hair and cradle her head, House plundered Stacy's mouth until both his cock and his tongue were buried deep inside. They stilled, reading each other's faces as their bodies adjusted. In that moment, Stacy saw, in those eyes she wanted to lose herself in, everything he couldn't say with words: Hope, want, need, doubt, fear. She slid her hands behind his neck, pulling him back down to her mouth and murmuring against his lips, "Now."

They began to move in unison, each stroke serving to drive them further out on the tightrope of ecstasy. They watched each other as he moved inside her, their eyes sharing the secrets of the universe, and he wrapped himself around her body. House ground his hips into Stacy's, trying to bury himself as deeply inside of her as possible, and felt his cock twitch as her slick insides gripped him tighter. They moaned into each other's mouths as he pulled out of her until just the tip remained. It almost undid them both when he slid back in. As the pace quickened, Stacy's only awareness was the heightened sensation of every nerve ending in her body and knew that she couldn't hold out much longer. The tightrope became a razor's edge they could no longer balance on and, as he buried himself deep one last time, she murmured into his ear the same words he'd said to her, sending them both soaring: "Let go for me."

* * *

They didn't move for a long time after that. House's flaccid cock slipped from Stacy's folds. Together they moaned at the loss. Eventually they had to move, if for no other reason than to prevent paralysis from setting into their bodies.

House rolled onto his back with a groan, Stacy turning to curl into his side. He draped his left arm around her as she settled into his chest, his fingertips idly stroking her shoulder, his mind finally calm. It surprised him that she was still there after the way the evening had ended, that he had somehow managed to not scare her away. He still didn't know why, and therein lie the puzzle. _Why didn't she leave? Did she feel obligated to stay?_ He hoped that wasn't the reason, but wouldn't blame her if it was. He knew he wasn't easy to be around and that he pushed people away when they got too close, but still there was a part of his brain that dared to think they might be off to a pretty decent start.

Stacy could feel the calm that emanated from Greg's body as they lay there and considered the thought that had crossed her mind earlier. _He really doesn't think he deserves this. To be happy._ She knew that any attempt to try and convince him otherwise would just lead to him digging in. She also knew that eventually he would figure it out for himself, given enough time. She snuggled deeper into his side, secure in the knowledge that despite the previous night's torment they were off to a pretty good start.

House leaned over to kiss the top of Stacy's head and said, "So. What do you want to do today?"

Stacy raised up on an elbow, gazing into Greg's deep blue eyes. "I dunno. What do you want to do?" she said in a terrible Southern-tinged English accent. He laughed, instantly getting the reference from the movie _The Jungle Book_. "Whatever we decide to do, it should be something fun."

"So you're saying that what we just did wasn't fun?" He leered at her. "Now I _really_ want to know what your idea of fun is."

* * *

They shared a leisurely shower and decided to walk over to a restaurant around the corner from the apartment for lunch. The day was almost balmy for early spring and they dressed accordingly. House draped his left arm around Stacy's shoulders as they left the building and she reached up to link her fingers with his as she slid her right arm around his waist. The walk only took a few minutes, time they spent in comfortable silence just enjoying being together.

At the restaurant, House ordered steak, while Stacy ordered chicken. As they waited for their order, they engaged in light conversation, finding common interests between them besides sex, music and spending most of their waking hours at work. They had both been athletic throughout their youth, but with so much time devoted to their careers they found that solitary pursuits like running and golf suited them better. Even so, House told her that he and Wilson usually managed to find time to go bowling or play squash once or twice a week.

When their meals arrived, House tucked into his steak like a man who hadn't eaten in a month. Stacy watched in amazement as he ate; it seemed as if half of the slab disappeared before she'd taken more than a few bites.

He caught her watching him and swallowed. "What? I've been suffering from severe protein depletion recently." Greg looked so innocent when he said it but his eyes shone with pure mischief, and Stacy couldn't help but laugh.

"Jerk," she said affectionately.


	19. Chapter 19

They walked back to the apartment after lunch, deciding to head out to the driving range to hit a bucket or two of golf balls. They took the bike and headed to Windsor Hills, where they rented drivers and balls.

House watched approvingly as Stacy lined up and took her first swing, the ball flying smoothly out to the yardage marker in the center of the range. He lined up his own shot and swung the club, sending the ball further out but with a definite hook. They alternated their shots the same way they alternated their comments, with humorous asides and plenty of good-natured sarcasm.

House took side roads as they rode back to Princeton, just enjoying the feeling of being on the road with Stacy close behind. He felt like he was flying. He reminded himself to ask her how she got to be so good at feeling the road beneath her, almost sensing each turn before he made it.

* * *

It was starting to get dark by the time they arrived back at the apartment, the warmth of the day beginning to shift into an evening chill. Stacy shivered as she got off the bike and took her helmet off. Greg's body had blocked the wind during the ride and she only noticed how cold it had gotten when she moved from behind his back.

When they got inside, House lit a fire in the fireplace while Stacy went to put the water on for tea. After the tea was made they once again settled onto the couch, passing the evening with books and each other's company. House had taken up a volume of Sherlock Holmes stories and slouched deep into the cushions in the corner of the sofa with his feet crossed on the coffee table. Stacy picked up where she left off in the novel she'd started, her head in Greg's lap and her bare feet propped up on the opposite arm of the sofa.

* * *

By the time Wilson got back several hours later after spending the past 24 hours being with the glioblastoma patient who had finally died a few hours before, he was emotionally drained. Walking into the apartment, he found both House and Stacy asleep on the sofa and marveled at how relaxed and comfortable they looked together. Watching House sleep, he realized he couldn't remember a time in the years they'd known each other when he'd actually seen House look content, yet the proof that such a thing was possible was stretched out before him. Wilson moved around the apartment as quietly as he could, not wanting to disturb them. When he came back into the living room after showering and changing, he found House awake and staring into the dying embers of the fire, idly stroking Stacy's hair.

"Sorry," Wilson said in a low voice. "I tried to be quiet."

"I was awake. Your patient dead?" As House spoke, Stacy stirred, opening her eyes at the sound of his voice.

She looked up at Wilson as he said, "Yeah. A few hours ago."

"I'm sorry, James," Stacy said. "I'm sure you did everything you could." House merely nodded and waited for Wilson to vent.

Wilson thanked her, then went into the kitchen for a beer. He opened it and took a swig, resting his hands on the heavy table in the center of the space. Ordinarily when a patient died, he would go home and Bonnie would let him get his feelings out, even though she barely grasped what was involved. She only understood what he did in the most basic of terms. Wilson usually had to do a lot of explaining before ever getting into what was bothering him. That never happened with House, who could read his mood at a glance and knew exactly what he had gone through while waiting for his patient to die. Even with Stacy there, Wilson felt more comfortable dealing with his patient's death at House's apartment than at his own. He went back into the living room to find his best friend putting the bedding at one end of the couch before turning to look at him.

"It's been awhile since you lost a patient. You probably need to process," House said, picking up the mugs and taking them into the kitchen.

"No. I'm good. Well, not _good_, but...I'm okay. It's not like it was unexpected. He knew when he was readmitted that he wouldn't be going home. His family and a few friends were there with him and I upped his morphine enough that he wasn't in any pain at the end."

House gave a small nod of acknowledgement. "Good. 'Night, Wilson," he said, heading to the bedroom.

"'Night, House," Wilson replied as he began to ready the couch for sleep.

* * *

Stacy had changed and was already in bed when House came into the room. She watched him as he changed into his usual sleeping attire. "Is James okay?" she asked. House crawled under the covers and she scooted over to curl up around him, her head on his chest and his left arm around her shoulders.

"He needs to process." Stacy looked up at Greg quizzically and he continued. "Wilson's problem is that he cares too much. You can practically hear him caring through a closed door. So when a patient dies, he feels the need to go through the motions, to process everything. He'll be fine." House shrugged. "He can't help himself."

Stacy snuggled in closer. "That's got to be hard, going to work every day knowing that you might lose a patient despite your best efforts."

"That's the nature of medicine. Patients die sometimes. Patients on Oncology wards tend to die more often. If you can't deal with that, you shouldn't be a doctor." There was no emotion in House's voice, he was simply stating facts. Stacy wondered if drinking scotch at the piano deep into the night was one way Greg dealt with the loss of a patient. He internalized everything, never letting anyone see what he was feeling, rarely letting his emotions show. It surprised her that he let her into his world as much as he had over the past week and considered the possibility that that was his way of letting her know how much he liked her. She turned her head and kissed his chest. As Greg pulled her closer and kissed the top of her head, she knew the feeling was mutual.

* * *

House lay awake most of the night while Stacy slept soundly beside him. He found it interesting that the thoughts and questions that crowded his mind were not the usual doubts and fears he dealt with on a near-daily basis, but of his burgeoning relationship with Stacy. It had started to occur to him while they spent the evening on the sofa together that he could actually see them doing that every night, and that it was something he never realized he desperately wanted. The only person he'd ever come close to living with before was Wilson, and while Wilson was his best friend (okay, _only_ friend, he conceded), he certainly wasn't the person House wanted to be sharing a bed with every night. That person was sleeping next to him, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Listening to Stacy's even breathing, House eventually fell into a relatively untroubled sleep.


	20. Chapter 20

Saturday

House woke up to the sound of Wilson doing his best to move around the apartment quietly. He glanced at the clock, knowing before he even saw the time that it was early. It didn't matter how early it was, only that it was early. Stacy had rolled over onto her left side in the night. House turned onto his own left side and wrapped himself around her, smiling as she hummed appreciatively in her sleep and covered his hand with her own. House buried his nose in her hair and drifted into a light doze.

* * *

Wilson was up early, even for him. He was meeting Bonnie for breakfast and as he once again folded the bedding from another night on House's couch, he wondered what they would talk about. Or if they would just sit there in awkward silence like they seemed to do more and more often. He still loved Bonnie, it just seemed as though they were growing further apart. Maybe it was because she didn't seem to need him as much as she had when they first met, maybe it was that cute new nurse in Oncology with the great sense of humor who made him feel funny. He really wasn't sure. He just knew that things weren't right between them and something was eventually going to have to change.

* * *

Wilson's idea of quiet kept waking House up. His banging around in the shower and blow drying his hair and whatnot began to drive House mad. After several minutes he knew that any chance of more sleep was futile. The way Wilson was moving around the apartment told House that he wanted to talk but didn't want to disturb him, knowing that Stacy was also sleeping. He carefully pulled his left arm out from under Stacy's head. She stirred slightly before settling back into sleep and House made his way into the kitchen to make coffee.

* * *

Stacy yawned and stretched as she rolled onto her back, instantly realizing that she was alone in bed. She lay there and pondered all that had happened to her over the course of the past week and smiled. She had never been more happy about a small rock that twisted her ankle and sent her sprawling to the pavement while running. Had it not been for that, she never would have given Greg House another thought. She would have chalked him up as just another jerk who was cute but too annoyingly abrasive to even consider dating. And now...now there was the potential for something so much more.

The thought of going home the next day to get ready for work on Monday depressed her. She felt like she was living on borrowed time, only to be thrust back into the long hours and mayhem of the legal system in just under 48 hours.

She lay there and thought about the words she'd read from the fortune cookie, words she didn't even take seriously, and once again wondered if they might actually be true.

* * *

Wilson came out of the bathroom to the smell of coffee. He briefly wondered when that had happened before understanding dawned that it was House's doing. The guy seemed to be aware of everything, even while he was asleep.

Sometimes Wilson wondered how House was able to sleep at all the way his mind always seemed to be chewing on something, which made him curious as to what was going on that had him up so early. _Probably needs to vent about his suspension. Or his patient. Or Stacy. _Wilson considered the amount of time House had spent with her over the 5 or so days that he'd known her. He'd never known Gregory House to willingly spend that much time with any human being. Ever. Including himself. She was obviously getting to him, and by the comfortable way he'd seen them the night before, he had made quite an impression on her as well.

* * *

House was just pouring the coffee when Wilson walked into the kitchen, taking the mug gratefully from his friend's hand when it was offered. They stood in silence drinking their coffee, House patiently waiting for Wilson to start talking. Wilson gathered his thoughts before speaking.

"Bonnie called me," he said. "She wants to meet for breakfast."

"What're you going to do?"

"I don't know. See what she has to say, I guess."

House sighed to himself. It was so like Wilson. Bonnie threw him out, but he was going to give her the benefit of the doubt. He was about to explain this fact to Wilson when Stacy came into the kitchen. She sniffed the air appreciatively and made a beeline for the coffee pot, dodging the arm that reached out to wrap itself around her waist.

Wilson watched the playful interaction and shook his head. It's almost as though House was a completely different person when he was around Stacy. He knew it wasn't true, he'd seen House retreat into himself during dinner at the sushi restaurant. Stacy might be able to make him forget for a while, but those thoughts and self-doubts that constantly plagued his best friend were never far away.

When Wilson left for his breakfast meeting with Bonnie, Stacy shooed Greg out of the kitchen so she could make omelets. He left reluctantly, but she knew he wasn't sulking. She heard the TV go on and the sound of Saturday morning cartoons drifted into the kitchen as she pulled ingredients out of the refrigerator. She heard that deep and hearty chuckle she'd first heard the weekend before and smiled. _He's such a child sometimes_. _Who knew it could be so infectious?_ She was surprised to find that she recognized the cartoon from her own childhood and as she busied herself with the omelets, realized that she still remembered a lot of the dialogue.

House drifted back into the kitchen at the commercial, the smell of the omelets cooking making it impossible to stay away. He snuck up behind Stacy and wrapped his arms around her waist, nuzzling her neck. She hummed deep in her throat as she turned the heat down on the stove and turned in his arms, wrapping her own around him and pulling him close. They stood there, enjoying the feeling of just being close.

"Mmm. Fits," he said as their bodies relaxed into each other. House glanced over Stacy's shoulder at the omelets, which were just starting to overcook. "Omelets are done," he said, reluctantly stepping back from the hug.

"Oh, shit!" Stacy turned back to the stove, relieved to find that they weren't ruined. She got the pan off the burner quickly and plated them as Greg moved to refill their coffee mugs and together they went into the living room to eat and watch cartoons. As they laughed at the familiar images on the screen, Stacy was amazed that so many of these programs were still on the air all these years later.


	21. Chapter 21

After they finished eating and had taken their dishes into the kitchen, House playfully cornered Stacy by the window against the glassed-in bookcase that held his large pots and spices, blocking her escape at every turn. She laughed at his antics, and her laughter did something to him deep inside.

He backed her deeper into the corner until his body pressed against hers, his hands sliding around her waist and down to her ass as he pulled her closer. She feigned trying to get away, but only briefly, the feeling of his hands pulling her to him had her hands moving to the back of his neck to pull his mouth down to hers. She felt him resist ever so slightly as he slowly brushed his lips against hers, much like he'd done the first time he kissed her and she wondered when the mood shifted. Not that it was a bad thing. Every time she tried to pull his mouth closer, he resisted, continuing to cover her mouth with feather-light kisses.

Suddenly he stilled, his mouth a hairs-breadth from her own, his eyes searching hers. _Those eyes will wreck me for the rest of my life_, Stacy thought as she tried to read what was going on behind them. She opened her mouth to say something only to be silenced by Greg's insistent mouth, his tongue seeking access that she more than willingly granted, her mind reeling. She pressed her hips into the erection quickly growing through the thin fabric of his pajama bottoms and he groaned into her mouth as he pulled her closer.

They stayed that way, tasting, hands roaming, until they were forced to separate enough to breathe.

Catching their breath, Stacy's hands on his biceps, House leaned his head forward until his forehead rested on hers, his eyes closing as he took in her scent. He found himself dreading the next day, when Stacy would leave to get back to her life in the courtroom and he would have another week of suspension to deal with. He had no idea what he would do with himself. Stacy would be mired in work, Bonnie was likely to take Wilson back one more time, and he would be alone.

After long hours of immersing himself in diagnostic puzzles at the hospital, House relished the time he spent in his apartment, losing himself in music and books and scotch and the occasional hooker when the need arose. When the self-doubt crowded his brain as it always did, he ran until he was able to push the thoughts back into place. But over the past week things had changed, and for once it wasn't a bad thing.

Stacy ran her hands up Greg's arms to his shoulders and back down again, his forehead against her own a comforting presence. She could almost hear the thoughts she envisioned going through his head and tried to think of something to say that would help calm them. And then she heard the words, so soft that at first she thought she might have imagined it.

"I need you."

Her hands stopped in place and she pulled her head back, looking into blue eyes that had suddenly turned anxious and uncertain, as if he couldn't believe he'd actually uttered the words aloud. House searched Stacy's eyes and waited for her to drop her hands and walk away. To his unending surprise, her gaze softened and she brought her right hand up to his face, smiling gently.

"For someone who is so incredibly brilliant, you really can be a world-class idiot sometimes. Don't you get it? I need you too."

House's eyes grew wide and his jaw slackened as Stacy's words sank into his brain. _She needs me?! She can have anyone she wants and she says she needs _me_? _

"That doesn't make any sense. What could you possibly need from a guy as screwed up as I am?"

The question made Stacy a little sad. She wondered what had happened in Greg's life that would make him question his worthiness when it came to relationships. She considered her answer carefully, looking down at the floor, knowing that what he needed in that moment was to hear absolute truth rather than mere platitudes.

"I need...what I didn't know I needed until now. I need to be challenged by your intelligence. I need to be reminded that it's okay to be a child sometimes. I need to feel the music that comes from your soul. I need to be able feel you next to me while I sleep." She looked back up at him, into eyes that searched her own for some kind of tell, eyes that made her want to take the suspicion and hurt away, eyes that she simply wanted to lose herself in forever.

"I need to know there's more to life than just work," she continued. "And I need to not be lonely anymore."

House watched the emotions that crossed Stacy's face as she spoke. They regarded each other for a few moments when she finished.

"I don't want you to leave," House said, breaking the growing silence.

"I don't want to leave. But I am going to have to go home at some point tomorrow. I didn't bring any clothes for work."

House shrugged. "So bring them here."

Stacy looked at him. "Here?"

"You said it yourself, your office is closer to here than to your place. You don't have to bring everything all at once or anything, just what you're comfortable with." He watched her face as realization dawned.

Stacy was at a loss for words, her mind overwhelmed with the weight of what Greg was suggesting.

"Are you sure about this?"

He pulled her closer. "As sure as I've ever been about anything."

It took Stacy all of 5 seconds to make her decision. "Okay."

"Seriously?"

"No." Stacy heard the hopefulness in Greg's voice and couldn't resist teasing him just a bit, although she did feel a twinge as his face fell at her response.

"Seriously?" he repeated, dejected.

"What do you think?" She pulled him down and kissed him soundly. "Of course. Jerk."

House gathered Stacy into his arms and said, "I know," before deepening the kiss as his mind breathed a sigh of relief. She hadn't walked away, hadn't even flinched at his words. And she had decided to stay.

They made their way into the bedroom, where they took their time peeling the bedclothes off of each other before falling onto the bed in a jumble of arms and legs, secure in the knowledge that they had just committed to something huge and they were okay with that.

* * *

Late in the afternoon, as they lay in the bed they hadn't left except to use the bathroom or answer the door to get the food they'd ordered, House felt more at ease with Stacy than he did even with Wilson. They talked about everything and nothing, about whatever came to mind, in the way you do with only your closest confidant. They decided that Stacy should keep her place. Between the two of them they made enough to cover both rents, and that way she would still have a space to call her own.

It only made sense to House, who knew there would always be times when he needed to be alone, to play music and drink scotch or read up on an unusually complex case, or to sit in his underwear and watch reality TV and soaps all day.

Stacy lay curled under Greg's left arm, her head on his chest over his heart, his fingertips absently tracing lines up and down her arm. She thought about what it was going to be like to have this every day and every night and she smiled against his chest.

House felt the movement of her face against his body and leaned over to kiss the top of her head, smiling to himself as he thought about what it was going to be like having her in bed with him like this every night. His last thought before allowing himself to sleep was, _I wonder how I'm going to break the news to Wilson._

FIN


End file.
